


Babel

by Safiyabat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU - Canon Divergence, Depressed Sam, F/M, M/M, Multi, Temporary Character Death - Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 89,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Safiyabat/pseuds/Safiyabat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU after "Free to Be You and Me" (5.03)</p><p>After the events of "Free to Be You and Me," Gabriel tracks Sam down to his motel room to and tries to convince him to get things over with and give himself over to Lucifer.  His pitch is interrupted when Sam's co-worker Lindsey arrives on the scene and refuses to leave Sam when he clearly needs help.  Unwilling to draw the innocent Lindsey into his attempt to force Sam to give in, Gabriel finds himself drawn into Sam's attempts to fight Lucifer.</p><p>Meanwhile, Dean returns from Zachariah's projected future to find that Sam's phone has been turned off.  </p><p>Can Gabriel do anything to turn the tide of the Apocalypse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Walls Of My Town They Come Crumbling Down

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my beta, forlorn-kumquat, and to my artist, Ealasaid, who also acted as a second beta.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel intends to "take Sam away from all this," and gets twice the snarky human he bargained for. Dean comes back from the future to dial a wrong number.

 Finding Sam Winchester took time.  It didn’t just take time, it took effort, and Gabriel wasn’t used to having to expend a lot of energy on simply looking for humans.  With other targets he might have gotten bored.  He should have gotten bored.  The kid wasn’t much of anything, not even a full human.  He’d shown his weakness.  Lucifer would wear him down eventually and Gabriel didn’t even, technically, need to be involved.  The enormity of Sam’s crime, coupled with the fact that Gabriel had tried to help him and prevent this whole damn mess and the fact that the little worm was making him work this damn hard to find him combined to ensure that his fury kept him motivated.  Gabriel was going to find him, and when he did he’d be begging to say yes to Luci just to make it stop.

            Except… he couldn’t.  Somehow the giant little weasel had gone and made himself untraceable.  He caught wind once or twice of that metal overcompensation that the brothers drove, but the glimpses were fleeting and when he went to check them out all he saw was Dean.  Once in a while he saw Castiel, a warrior angel he barely remembered from Heaven.  On the rare occasion that he bothered to tune in to Angel Radio he heard that Dean and Castiel had trapped Raphael in a ring of holy fire but no one mentioned the abomination that shared some of Dean’s blood.  Maybe they just thought he wasn’t worth mentioning, which just went to show that the bureaucracy that Heaven had become had its head so far up its collective ass that it couldn’t possibly win this war.  Sure, Dean was a hell of a hunter, but Gabriel had seen what Sam could be like if he were unleashed.

    No scrying method, however, gave the archangel the slightest glimpse of the junior Winchester.  No angelic methods of clairvoyance picked him up.  No pagan magic ferreted him out, either.  Even Gabriel’s few demonic connections proved useless, much to his chagrin.  In the end, Gabriel only figured out where he was because someone he knew happened to overhear some hunters talking about a hunt gone wrong in Garber, Oklahoma.  A couple of guys – Tim and Reggie – had decided to try to dose up a “freak” with demon blood to use him as a weapon against a demon in the area, only to get their asses handed to them when he proved to not be the “sit back and take it” type of guy they were apparently expecting.

    That sounded an awful lot like Sam Winchester to Gabriel.  Well, apart from the part where there was no mention of Dean.  But hey – it was worth looking into, right?

    He flew to Garber, making short work of the miles, and found the single sleaziest motel in the area.  A leopard doesn’t change its spots or whatever, and the Winchesters wouldn’t have gotten anything but the barest minimum accommodations.  He still couldn’t sense Sam, but if the Winchesters were here there was no way they were staying anyplace else.  The only way to find him was by process of elimination, so he popped into each unit individually.  In this, he could be patient.  He was hunting, and he wasn’t going to stop until he caught his prey.

    He interrupted two late-night trysts, three drug deals and one entirely too literal spank-bank session before he found his quarry.  Sam’s room was on the end of the row, the next three units and those above all vacant.  This one looked like it would be vacant soon, too; Sam was packing.  His face had grown pale since the last time Gabriel had peeped in on him, and while he’d put on some muscle it looked like that was all there was to him – nothing soft, nothing spare.  Almost like someone had taken the Robo-Sam from Broward County and put him on a starvation diet.

    He startled when he saw Gabriel, but relaxed back into packing with a pissy look on his face.  “The night keeps getting better,” he bit out.  “Look, I get that you’re looking to punish me, give me my just desserts or whatever.  And sure, I deserve it.  But –“

   “If you knew you’d deserve to be punished why the hell’d you do it, dumbass?” Gabriel snarled.

    Sam opened his mouth and took a breath, as though to explain, and then exhaled.  “Who cares?  It’s not like it makes a difference.  I still did it.  I still started the Apocalypse.”  He looked away.  “The why doesn’t matter.”

    Gabriel blinked.  That was about as far from the answer that he’d expected from the abomination as he could possibly get, and it let some of the air out of his sails.  “And you think you can just… take off?”

    “Well I sure as hell can’t stay here.  These people are in danger – more danger than everyone else, I mean – because of me.  I can’t let that happen.”  He zipped up his duffel.

    Gabriel rolled his eyes.  “Now he grows a conscience.  Don’t you think you’re a couple of months too late on that, kid?”

     Sam shrugged.  “Look.  Whatever game you want to play, can it wait until I’m a minimum safe distance from this town?  These people are good people.  They don’t deserve whatever shitstorm you’re going to drop.”

“I don’t hurt innocent people.  I just hurt dicks.”

Something flared up in Sam’s eyes.  “You killed Dean a hundred and eighty seven times.  He’s a good man.”

“You didn’t see him in Hell, bucko.”  Gabriel had.  He’d taken a moment to look in on Dean, had seen him off the rack.  Dean hadn’t experienced his deaths, only Sam had, but that wasn’t the point.

Sam sneered.  This abomination – this piece of filth, neither demon nor human – had the gall to sneer at him.  “It was Hell.  That’s what it’s _for_.  Or is redemption for humans just a myth?”

They met each other’s eyes.  “Maybe for him,” Gabriel had to admit.  “Maybe there’s redemption for him.  Not for you.”

Sam snorted.  “Think I don’t know that?”  He picked the bag up.  “Look.  I’m not even asking for redemption.  I’m not asking for… for anything, really.  I’m asking you not to screw up the lives of the people around here.”

“You ended the world!” Gabriel yelled.  A light bulb exploded and the archangel remembered himself, tried to rein in his voice.  “Why should I give you a damn thing?”

“Because these people didn’t end the world.”  Sam gestured to the door, the walls.  He wasn’t backing down, not even close to it.  “There are people – my brother, his friends – trying to stop the Apocalypse as we speak.  Maybe they’ll succeed.  Instead of fucking with the people of Garber, why not go help Dean?  You can do what you want to me after.”

“Who says I want to stop it?”

Sam stopped short.  “Because…. It’s the end?  Of the world?  And you’re part of the world?”  He tilted his head as though looking at Gabriel through a different angle would help the conversation make more sense.  “I mean, why would you want the world to end?  You love torturing dicks like me.  No matter which side wins, that stops.  Humanity stops.  It’s over.”

“Exactly.  Once you popped the top on Lucifer, the world ended.  It doesn’t matter which side wins, I lose,” Gabriel raged, grabbing Sam by his lapels.  “I just want to get it over with.  Fastest way I can think of to do that is to bring Lucifer’s True Vessel right to him.”

Sam frowned.  “Sorry but no.  That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense to you, Sammy-boy.  All you have to do is to say yes to him and you won’t have to worry about anything making sense ever again.  It’s too good for you, all things considered, but hey – at least you won’t be anyone’s problem anymore –“

The door opened – apparently it hadn’t been locked.  Who knew?  “What the hell is going on here?” a blonde woman demanded.  “Keith – Sam – I’m calling the police.”

“No!” Sam objected, raising a hand.  Gabriel let go of his quarry.  “Lindsey – hey.  How are you?  You look like you’re doing better.  How are your wrists?  Let me have a look.”  He rushed over to the blonde, who presented her arms without complaint and smiled up at him.

Gabriel wanted to vomit.  Was she hooking up with Sam?  Was he that irresponsible?  “I came by because you haven’t come to work in a couple of days.  You said you would, but you haven’t, and I wanted to make sure that those guys hadn’t run you off –” She trailed off.  “Sam, what’s that all over the wall?”  She pulled away and went to examine what looked like red paint on the wall.  Only it wasn’t paint, Gabriel realized as the blonde drew closer.  “Oh my God, Sam, is that –“

“Blood,” Gabriel identified.  “And brains.”  Sam looked away, cheeks scarlet.  “Little Sammy here tried to blow his brains out.”   How had Gabriel just failed to see that?  Now that the blonde had pointed out the stain he couldn’t not see; the eyes were drawn to it by some kind of gravitational force.

Lindsey put her hands to her mouth, eyes watery already.  Sam glowered at Gabriel.  “Jeez, did you have to be quite so blunt?  She’s human, Loki.  She’s human and she’s very, very new to this whole thing.”  He put an arm around her shoulder and tried to stand in front of the splatter.

“What do you mean ‘she’s human?’”  There was only a little note of hysteria to Lindsey’s voice, just the tiniest bit.  Gabriel was impressed.  “What are you two supposed to be, sea turtles?”

“Oh, Samsquatch here is part demon.  I believe that the angels call him, what is it, Sam?  Help me out here.”

“Abomination,” Sam supplied, looking at the floor.

“That’s right.  Lower even than a demon, created only for chaos and destruction.”  He offered his smarmiest grin.  If the girl was all hot for the Winchester it was best for her, in the long run, if she learned what he was really all about.  “Me, I’m Loki.  You may be familiar with me from such classics as _Lokasenna_ and _Reginsmal_.”

“You’re a god.”  She snorted.  “Aren’t you a little short for the whole… god thing?”  She shook her head as Gabriel scowled.  “And Sam – care to explain why you decided to blow your brains out?  And, uh, why, if there are brains on the wall, you’re here talking to me?”

Gabriel had to admit that he was curious about that one too, so he let the comment about his height slide.  After all, his true form was the size of a galaxy.  “Yeah,” he purred.  “Tell us, Sammich.  They keep telling me you’ve got brains to spare but I’ve never really seen it.”

“Tracked your sorry ass down,” Sam growled, and Gabriel was once again reminded of Broward County.  When he turned to Lindsey, though, he was entirely gentle.  “Lindsey, look.  It’s more of that… stuff.  You don’t… you probably don’t want to know about that stuff.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know, Mysterio.  Was it because of those guys?”

“No.  No, I wasn’t going to let those guys chase me away.  But, there’s someone – something – else that I found out about after that.”  He swallowed.  “Um, angels can’t operate on this plane without possessing a human.”

“I thought that was demons,” she frowned, shifting backwards just a little bit.

“Not much of a difference when you get right down to it.”  Sam offered an apologetic grin, and Gabriel’s outrage grew.

“Demons possess people,” Gabriel interrupted, jabbing a finger at Sam’s chest.  “Angels take vessels.  They require consent.”

“But they’re not exactly scrupulous about how they get that consent,” Sam challenged. He shifted his weight, bringing those eyes of his to bear fully on Gabriel.  It wasn’t a good feeling.  “And at the end of the day you’re still a prisoner in your own body while someone else uses it, uses you, for their own needs.  And then they throw you away like garbage.  To them, that’s all we are.  Don’t look at me like that, Loki, I’ve sat there and watched it happen.  And that was with one of the ‘good’ ones.”  He snorted, finally turning his face away to encompass Lindsey in the conversation again.  “The only difference is that one side pretends the ‘vessel’ wanted it.”  He shivered.  “Anyway.  You already know that I started the Apocalypse.  Well, I set Lucifer free, but he’ll be the most powerful in his True Vessel.  And, as it turns out, that True Vessel is me.”  He looked away and bit his lip.

Lindsey paled.  “Oh, Sam.  And he’s trying to get to you?”

“He can’t find me.  I’ve taken steps.  But he’s been coming to me in my dreams, and I’m afraid.  I’m afraid of myself.  You already know that I’m not exactly unwavering in the face of temptation.”  He took a deep breath.  “He’ll be less powerful if he can’t get to me.  So I told him I’d kill myself before I said ‘yes’ to him.”  He shrugged.  “It’s not some despondence thing, you don’t have to worry about me or anything.”

Her eyes bulged.  “You shot yourself in the face to _prove a point_ and you think I don’t have to worry about you?”  She shook her head, wavy blonde tendrils falling into her face.  “So… I mean, I’m glad it didn’t work, don’t get me wrong.  But, why didn’t it work?”

He scratched his head.  “Oh.  That.  Yeah.  He, uh, he said he’d just bring me back.”

She backed away and walked into the bathroom.  Gabriel gave Sam a hard look, but he just stared straight ahead.  Lindsey took one look at the bathroom, doubled over the toilet and was noisily sick.  Gabriel put a hand on her back.  If the wall behind Sam’s bed was bloody, there had been a slaughter in the bathroom.  Clearly the kid had gotten creative.

“What the hell, Sam?  Did you really think that you could get out of this whole thing by killing yourself?” Gabriel demanded, coming to grab his collar again.

“No.  I told you.  Lucifer’s less powerful in his other vessel.  I can’t do much to help Dean and Cas stop the Apocalypse, but I want to do what I can.”  He grabbed Gabriel’s arm.  “Hey – you could help.  I can’t say yes if I’m in a coma, right?”

Now Gabriel felt sick, and angels weren’t supposed to get sick.  “Sam, have you forgotten that I’m here to bring you to Lucifer and get this whole show on the road?”

Lindsey rounded on him.  “What?”

“It’s true.”  Sam sagged.  “He just wants to get it over with.”

Lindsey stomped on Gabriel’s shoe.  Against all odds, it hurt.  “Asshole!  You want to hand this guy over to the Devil?”

“Maybe he should have thought of that before he, I don’t know, let Lucifer out of his box in the first place?” Gabriel smirked back at her.

She pulled at her hair.  “Oh my God, I can’t believe this conversation.  Are you completely unfamiliar with the concept of redemption?”

“Something like me doesn’t get redemption,” Sam told her quietly.  “Something like me never could have been saved in the first place.”  The sentiment was one that Gabriel had espoused, but hearing it from Sam’s lips just sounded… sad.  Pathetic.  The angel felt an odd sensation in his arms and chest; a moment’s reflection identified them as physical symptoms associated with guilt.  “All I want to do is contribute in some small way toward cleaning up my own mess.”

“By blowing your brains out.”  She shook her head.  “So what are your plans?  Do you have anyone…”

“No.”

“Oh come on, Sam.”  Gabriel took a few steps away.  “What about big brother and his rolling phallus?  Can’t he come and save you from all this?”

Lindsey glared at him.  “You’re really a dick, you know that?”

“It’s a point of pride, baby,” he grinned.

“He, uh, he’s not interested.  And he shouldn’t be.  He’s got enough on his plate, you know?”  He offered up another of those weak smiles.  “I called to tell him, and he, uh, he told me to pick a hemisphere.  So I’m on my own here, and that’s okay.  He’s got to find a way to derail this thing, he can’t do that if he’s got to worry about me falling off the wagon too.”

“He said that?”  Lindsey’s voice squeaked with outrage.

“When we split up.  But Lindsey, he was right.  I mean, it’s great if families want to be supportive and everything, but there’s regular addictions and demon blood addictions, in a family of demon hunters.  He’s right to wash his hands of me.  I’d just slow him down.  I talked to Bobby a little bit; he says that Cas is making a good partner for him.  He’s reliable, Dean trusts him, which is more than he ever did with me.  So.”

“Damn it.”  Gabriel scowled.  This was ridiculous.  The kid had done it to him again.  He’d come in full of wrath and fury – and no one could really do wrath like an archangel with a bee in his bonnet – but now the kid had him so turned around he was feeling sorry for an abomination.  How did he manage this?  Was it the eyes?  It had to be the eyes.

“What?”  Both Sam and Lindsey looked over at him.

“You’re kind of breaking my heart, kid.  I mean, you broke yourself for him and he kicks you to the curb like this?”  He shook his head.

“He went to Hell for me, Loki.  And I did nothing but disappoint him.  I’m a freak and a monster.  Plus, there’s that whole Michael and Lucifer thing.  He’s right.  He’s better off as far away from me as possible.”  He took a deep breath and steadied his voice.  “And the best way that I can help him is to keep Lucifer from getting his hands on me.  So – maybe it’s too little too late, but I’m going to do what I can.”

Lindsey sighed, looking up at her friend with a quivering chin.  “But Sam – you don’t need to do it alone.”  She reached out and touched his face gently.  “You – I mean, you’re strong, I saw how strong you are.  I’ve been clean for years and I still don’t know if I could take having a bunch of whiskey poured down my throat, you know?  But you – you did it, and you spat it right back into their eyes.  I was so proud of you.”

Sam seemed to lean into her touch for a moment, eyes closed, but then he stepped back.  “I don’t – I mean, I don’t know if I could manage that again.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to.  But you won’t have to do it alone.  I’m coming with you.”

“No!”  Gabriel spoke at the same time as Sam, much to his own surprise.  “Look, it’s a real nice gesture, Lindsey,” the archangel told her as Sam recoiled.  “But you have no idea what happens to the people who get mixed up with this kid, okay?  They die.  A lot.  And they die badly.  Mother?  Murdered by a demon.  Girlfriend?  Died the same way, twenty-two years to the day for no reason other than the fact that he was in love with her.  Daddy?  Same demon.  Brother?  Torn apart by hellhounds.  Sammy here’s died once –“

“Twice –“ Sam corrected.

“Twice before his little experiment with suicide.  Twice?  Seriously?”  He turned to look directly at Sam.  How had he missed that little tidbit?

Sam shrugged.  “Electrocuted.  I got over it.  It wasn’t a big deal, no one noticed or anything.”

For crying out loud, this had to be the most screwed up kid he’d ever met in a long history of screwed up kids.  “Do you remember where you went?”

“It doesn’t matter, Loki.  I was dead for maybe half an hour.  You’re getting off topic.  Do you need a sugar fix?”  Sam rolled his eyes.

Gabriel reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a Blow-Pop.  “Every girl he’s ever dated?  Dead.  Or possessed.  The guys?  Mostly possessed too, or at least the important ones.”

“What?”  Sam turned to look at him.

“Oh, Brady’s whole little meltdown sophomore year?  Yeah.  He got possessed.  Fun times.  He’s still out there, by the way.  Getting ridden by that thing.  You never knew.”  He saw the look on Sam’s face, and it just about cut him down to his Grace.  “Oh, for crying out loud.  It’s not your fault that you didn’t know.  Your father shielded you very carefully from any mention of demons or possession because he didn’t want to give you ideas.  I’m sure if you had known you’d have saved your blond little boy’s life nice and heroically.  Or not.  No point in crying over spilled Wonder Bread.”

Okay.  If the looks on Lindsey and Sam’s faces were anything to go by he probably could have phrased that a little bit better.  “Anyway,” Lindsey said after a minute of just staring at Gabriel with a look of disgust, “so it’s risky.  Fine.  I’ve been informed.  I’m a grown woman, Sam.  I can make my own choices.”

Gabriel cleared his throat.  “Did I neglect to inform you that he’s part demon?”

She glowered at him.  “You know, I think that you had previously informed me of those points.  Thank you.”

“And that his last girlfriend was a demon?”

Lindsey glanced at Sam, who shrugged.  “Not so much a ‘girlfriend,’” he said.  “More of a ‘colleague with benefits.’  But sure.”  He grinned softly.  “I’m not a horse you should be hitching yourself to, Linds.”

“He drank her blood, Lindsey.”

“Well I knew he was an addict – “ She stopped herself.  “Is she the one who got you addicted?”

Sam frowned.  “I got myself addicted.  I made the choices.  But she’s the one who suggested it might help with a project that I was working on.”  He sighed.  “The choices were mine, Lindsey.”

“Okay.  And this is my choice.  I choose to stand by your side, Sam.  I’m not leaving you alone.  Especially now that I know that everyone else you know has hung you out to dry.”  She reached out and grabbed Sam’s hand.  “You need help.”  With her free hand she gestured at the wall, at the bathroom.  “That tells me that you need help.  Maybe you can do this alone, but you don’t have to and you’re more likely to have success if you have someone with you.  Holding you accountable and believing that you can do this.”

He squeezed her hand.  “Lindsey, I appreciate the sentiment.  I mean, really.  It means a lot to me that you would even want to be anywhere near me right now, knowing what I am.  What I’ve done.  But Loki’s right – it’s too dangerous.  We’re not just talking about the risk of car accidents here.  People die horribly just because I know them.  They go to Hell.  They get tortured to death.”  He glared at Gabriel, who still had enough of a conscience to feel guilty about that.  “I have one gun, and an old silver knife.  I can’t protect you.”

“You’ve got your powers, kiddo,” Gabriel volunteered.  He shouldn’t say anything, he shouldn’t help, it was just delaying the inevitable but he couldn’t stand to see that look on Sam’s face.  Maybe that was Sam’s real superpower after all.

“Which I have to go off the wagon to use.  Last time I did that I broke Lucifer out of jail.  Do you really want to see what I could do if I did that again?”  Sam’s glare could have stopped a missile in its tracks.

“You have superpowers?” Lindsey asked, raising an eyebrow.

“More like supervillain powers,” Sam muttered.

“Kid, Azazel was attracted to your mom in the first place because of something in her blood.  His blood changed you, it’s true – but all of the other little abominations were able to use their power without having to engage in forbidden practices, right?”  Gabriel couldn’t believe he was saying this, but here he was.  “All right then.  Why would you be any different?  We just have to figure out a way to get you to use your powers without sucking down hell blood and you’ll be golden.”

Sam blinked.  “So now you’re on our side?”

“Oh no.  No no no.  I still think that the best thing you could possibly do for the world is to give in to Lucifer, say yes and get the whole thing over with.  But since you’re determined to say no, I might as well help you fight until you see reason.”  He crossed his arms over his chest.

“It would be better if you helped Lindsey, protected her and got her someplace safe.”  Sam’s jaw set.

“I’m not leaving you, Sam.  I’m not leaving you on your own.  If you want Loki to protect me, he’s going to have to do it from near you.”

Sam sighed.  “I wish you’d change your mind.”

“You know that’s not going to happen.”  She grinned.  “You haven’t known me long, Sam, but you know I’m pretty tenacious.  Like a terrier.”

He gave another of those watery grins.  “Alright.  If at any time, though, you’re ready to bail, just say the word.  We’ll make that happen.  Okay?  I want to make sure you’re as safe as you can be.”

Gabriel gagged.  “Alright, alright already.  Now that that’s settled, let’s get both of you under the radar.  Dean really told you to pick a hemisphere?”

Sam nodded.  “Yeah.  I figure if I stay on this side of the Mississippi I should be okay though.”

The trickster looked at Sam.  This was just pathetic.  This was so far from those bickering brothers that he couldn’t even call them Winchesters anymore.  “Seriously, kid, what happened to you?”

“I happened to us.  Where do you want to go?”

“I’ve got a place up in the Ochoco National Forest.  Why don’t we start there and see where the magic takes us, hmm?  First, though.”  He grabbed their phones and passed a hand over them.  “You won’t be needing these anymore – too easy to track.  Grab your computer, Sam.  Let’s go.”

*

“The number you have reached is no longer in service; no forwarding information is available.”

“Fuck!” Dean yelled, throwing his own phone onto the seat.

“I do not believe that this is wise to do with a cellular telephone, Dean,” Cas intoned from beside him.  “I do not believe that the electronics were designed to survive such –“

“It’s a figure of speech, Cas,” Dean told him, exasperated.  “I just tried Sam’s cell phone – the only one the son of a – well, that he took with him and it’s been taken out of service.”

“He wished to remain hidden,” the angel reminded him.  “Perhaps he needed to turn off his phone service?”

“No.  Not Sam.  He knows how important it is to be reachable, just in case.  Besides, if he was going to do that he’d have done it right away.  He called me right before Zachariah sent me on my little back-to-the-future junket.  No, something’s wrong.”  He squirmed.  “Do you think he’s in trouble?”

Piercing blue eyes fixed him from across the car.  “Why would you believe that?”

“Ah, he called me.  Said he was Lucifer’s Vessel or some such thing.”

“Ah.”  Cas looked straight ahead.

“’Ah.’”  Dean made the connection.  “You knew.”

“I am not surprised.  With you being Michael’s Vessel and all.”  He shrugged.  “Does this change things?”

“It didn’t, at the time.  I told him to pick a hemisphere.  Being in Zachariah’s playland showed me what that kind of attitude would lead to.  Now I can’t help but wonder if it’s too late.”  He sighed.  “Or if he’s just pitching a bitch fit because I wouldn’t let him come running to big brother to make everything better, you know?”

“I do not know.  I have never known Sam to ask you for help in such a way, only for solidarity.”  The judgment was there; Sam had not received solidarity from Dean in a long time.  But what had the kid expected?  He’d been running around using his freak powers, drinking demon blood, hanging around with a demon instead of his brother and look what had come of it.  Armageddon.  “Nevertheless.  Perhaps Bobby Singer will have news.”  God, he just didn’t know anymore.

Dean grabbed his phone with a snarl.  He didn’t want to call Bobby.  He didn’t want to hear Bobby’s judgment about pushing the kid away, about his failures.  Bobby had no idea.  Still, if anyone would know it would be Bobby.  “What is it, boy?” the gruff older hunter demanded by way of greeting.  “It’s four in the morning.”

“Sam’s number’s gone out of service,” he replied.  “Did something happen?”

Bobby grunted.  “I heard a couple of hunters caught up to him.”

“Hunters?”  Dean almost ran off the road.  “Jesus, Bobby, what the hell?”

“There was a case,” Bobby sighed.  “He refused to work it, even though he turned me onto it, so I sent other guys in.  They made him, tried to get him to work with them, he refused.  When the case went bad, they blamed him and tried to force demon blood down his throat.”

Dean’s blood went cold in his veins.  Of course.  Freaking junkie.  Even though these guys had forced it on him, it wouldn’t have been an issue if he hadn’t gone and become an addict in the first place.  “For crying out loud, Bobby.  Is he in the panic room?”

“No.  Apparently he spat it back in their faces before beating seven kinds of crap out of them.  That’s the last anyone I know saw or heard of him.”

“Yeah, well, just because he spat it back at them doesn’t mean he didn’t go right back out and look for a hit.  The kid needs watching, Bobby.”  The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he slammed his hand on the wheel, regretting them before the sound left the air.  Sure, the kid needed watching.  He also wished it was his brother in that seat instead of the angel, however much more fun the angel was than Sam.  Then again, if Dean couldn’t stop himself from lashing out when Sammy wasn’t even here maybe it was for the best that he wasn’t.  At least for now.  After all, he’d seen first hand the consequences of driving Sam to Lucifer.

“I ain’t the one who cut him loose, boy.  But seems to me that if you wanted to find him maybe you should’ve done it when he called you, not three days later.”  Bobby hung up.

Dean sighed and related Bobby’s story to Cas.  “Trouble does find Sam,” the angel sighed.  “He must be terrified.”

“Him and me both, Cas.”  And he was terrified.  He’d tried calling, but Sam had ditched his phone.  It wasn’t like Cas could go looking for the kid, Cas had put those rib tats on Sammy himself.  Funny how all those measures meant to protect them from angels were just driving them further apart and into those angels’ arms… Even Bobby wouldn’t be able to use a spell to find Sammy, not with those hex bags he’d cooked up.  Damn it.  

He would find a way.  He knew better than to leave Sammy out on his own.  In the meantime, there was a job to do.  Evil sons of bitches didn’t stop killing because the Apocalypse was on, after all.  “Hey – there’s a job over in Ohio.  Haunted car.  Let’s go check it out.”  After all, there wasn’t any way of finding Sammy if he didn’t want to be found.  Between those hex bags, the rib tats and the lack of a phone, Sammy had seen to that.  

 


	2. And I Know Their Choices Color All I've Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel does some teaching. Gabriel does some learning. Dean learns about interchangeable parts.

The humans didn’t show much curiosity when they got to the cabin.  They were both too exhausted and Sam too sunk in misery to have much interest in their surroundings.  Gabriel looked in on them but they slept separately, Lindsey on her side on the nice, solid oak bed – the only bed built for two – and Sam curled up on one of the bunks.  Interesting, the archangel thought.  Lindsey had expectations?  But Sam had taken the bunk farthest away from her and curled up into a little ball as though that could get him farther away.

          He wasn’t repulsed by her, not by any stretch of the imagination.  Gabriel had seen him lean into her touch back in that fetid motel room.  Maybe they’d had a fight?  But she was here, looking to stand by him.  Humans.  They made no sense at all.

          And Sam – here he was curled into a cramped little ball on a bed that was too short for his massive frame.  He slept, sort of, a fitful kind of slumber that came to him in stops and starts.  He dreamed.  The dreams seemed painful.  There was no way that Lucifer could reach into his dreams from here, but that didn’t seem to affect his sleep quality much.  If Gabriel chose – and he was a nosy little archangel, so he did choose – he could see the cycle of guilt that played behind his eyes.  He saw that girlfriend of his roasting on the ceiling.  Then the kid would startle awake, he’d fall asleep again and next would be the kid’s mother dying the same way.  Sam shouldn’t even remember his mother, how could he have nightmares about her death?  And then he’d wake up, and the next dream would be Dean being torn apart by hellhounds.  Or some werewolf chick deciding that a bullet to the heart was the only way he could save her.  Or another abomination, hanging from a windmill.

          Eventually he got up and grabbed some running clothes from his duffel.  He changed in the bathroom even though Lindsey was still asleep and Gabriel had already seen everything anyway, had been watching him for a long time.  He emerged, and Gabriel followed him out into the sunrise.  “Where you off to?” he demanded.

          “Couldn’t sleep well.  Figured I’d run it out.”

          The archangel shrugged.  “Might as well keep that body in shape.  Lucifer will like it better that way.”

          Sam’s jaw tightened but he didn’t rise to the bait.  “We’re not in Oregon.”

          “Always knew you were the smart one.  No.  I snapped the two of you to a different reality for a little while.  It won’t be safe for long and believe me, the last thing I want is your angelic master finding me – well, anywhere – but it should buy us a little time to get you up to snuff and to get your girlfriend better set up to keep herself safe.”  He forced himself to grin, knowing that Sam wouldn’t see any humor in it.  He didn’t want him to.    

          “She’s not my girlfriend, Loki.”

          “Of course not.”

          Sam just rolled his eyes and started his run.

          Lindsey woke up about an hour and a half later.  “Where’s Sam?” she wanted to know, coming out of her room and scratching her head.

          Gabriel waved a hand.  Coffee and pastries appeared on the table.  “Off indulging his masochistic streak in slightly less self-destructive ways by putting one foot in front of the other really fast,” he explained.  She blinked.  “He went for a run.  Which will no doubt be followed by strength training and maybe some yoga.”

          “Seriously?”  She shuddered.  “Without coffee?”

          “Kid’s got to maintain that body of his somehow.  You didn’t think the whole demon thing was keeping that in shape did you?” he smirked, grabbing a pastry and biting into it.

          She sighed and poured herself a coffee.  “He’s not even here.  You don’t have to sit there and take pot shots at him because of the whole demon thing.”  She looked at him out of the side of her eye.  “That’s really a thing for you, isn’t it?”

          “What, the demon blood bit?  Yeah.  It’s kind of a big deal.”  The pastries were perfect.  They always were.

          “Don’t you think that’s a bit… I don’t know, screwed up?”  She raised a blonde eyebrow.  “I mean, it’s not like he can help who his parents were.  Or whatever.”

          “I’m a god, sister.  We don’t associate with demons.  We barely associate with humans, okay?  And him – he’s something in between.  He’s not even one or the other.”

          “You gave birth to something that was half horse, Loki.”  She pursed her lips.

          “At least my kids don’t go around sucking down demon blood!” he spat.  “They don’t go around looking to become more monstrous, okay?  They accept who and what they are and they don’t go looking to become more, or something else.”  He held his head in his hands.  You could say a lot about Gabriel, but you could never accuse him of ambition.  He liked to think of it as one of his better traits.

          “Yeah, well I can’t imagine why someone who gets treated like he’s horse leavings  might reach for something better.”   She snorted.

          “It doesn’t matter what he wants.  It doesn’t matter what he wants to get treated like,” Gabriel snapped.  “It’s a matter of what he can expect.  The demonic… stuff… Lucifer’s Grace isn’t like any other angel’s, okay?”  He looked away and put his pastry down; he might not have a stomach but talking about what had happened made it difficult to eat.  “They say that it’s been twisted by the Cage.  I mean, any archangel would be difficult for even the strongest vessel to contain, okay?  For more than a minute or two.”  He didn’t know that it was true, he couldn’t be sure.  It wasn’t like they had a huge sample set of Cage-twisted archangels to examine – but indications were that Lucifer’s grace was downright scarred.

          She blinked and sipped from her coffee.  “What do you mean?”

          “So, getting possessed by a demon is –“

          “Horrible,” Sam filled in, grabbing a cup of coffee.  Gabriel hadn’t heard him, hadn’t sensed him in any way, but here he was.  He dripped with sweat, tee shirt clinging to his muscular chest, and he sat gingerly at the end of the table.  “You’re locked in a corner of your mind, but you can watch what the thing is forcing your body to do.  You can feel everything, too.  You just can’t control it.”  He looked away.

          Gabriel cleared his throat.  “I forgot your big sis took you for a test drive.”  It had been a big deal, at the time.  At least, it had been for Sam.  “If it’s any consolation –“

          “It isn’t,” Sam told him, eyes on the table.

          “Most of the time demons shut down their hosts for most of the possession,” the angel continued as though Sam hadn’t spoken.

          “Yeah, I know.”  Hostility bristled from the abomination’s words like spikes from a hedgehog.  “Meg made that abundantly clear.  She liked to talk.  She was, uh, she was chatty.  Never shut up, really.”  His nostrils flared.  “What’s your point?”

          “Angels are different.  A regular human can’t usually handle housing an angel.  They’ll explode on contact.  You, Lindsey, can’t hold an angel.  It’s not in your bloodline.  You don’t have the right genes for it, however nicely your jeans do fit.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.  She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched a little.  “People who can in fact carry an angel are called vessels, and each vessel has a different level of strength.  It’s not an indictment; it’s just the degree to which the gene has been diluted in that particular bloodline.  Some can’t hold an angel for more than a week or two.  It doesn’t mean that they’re bad people – angels aren’t anything more than a being of pure, unadulterated energy.”

          “Radioactivity,” Sam surmised.  “It’s why you can’t look directly at them.”

          “I keep saying you’re the smart one,” Gabriel grinned, “and you don’t prove me wrong.  It’s not radioactivity exactly but close enough.  Some people’s bodies can adjust to it.  Some can’t.  It’s just… it’s just a physical thing.  It’s nothing to do with who that person is, it’s just their body.  Like whether or not that person can eat gluten or not.

          “Archangels are different.  To house an archangel you need to be descended from one of the four bloodlines.  Anyone from one of those four lines could house an archangel – someone from Michael’s bloodline could house Raphael.  The thing is, it wouldn’t feel comfortable.  And archangels have what are called ‘True Vessels.’”  He sighed.  “An archangel will burn out his vessel no matter what.  His mind, his soul, his spirit.  But his True Vessel can keep going pretty much indefinitely, although he’ll be left pretty much useless when the archangel withdraws.”

          “I’m not letting that happen to Dean,” Sam growled.

          Gabriel rolled his eyes.  Had Sam really not gotten the memo?  Dean and Sam weren’t even together anymore.  “What makes you get a choice, hot stuff?  Besides.  You have bigger problems.  The demon blood – what Azazel did to you, turning you into an abomination – that was necessary.  Lucifer’s Grace isn’t like other archangels’.  It’s been twisted and your body needed to be… fortified by Hell, I guess.  He’ll burn through the poor sap he’s using in a few months but you – you’ve had the hell regimen since you were in diapers.  You’ll be fine.”

          “For a given value of fine,” Lindsey skeeved.  “If you define ‘fine’ as having his mind, soul and spirit burned away.”

          Sam shrugged.  “That’s not important, Lindsey.  I’m more worried about Lucifer burning the world away.  What you’re saying, though, is that I was always damned.”

          “Yeah.  Even before Azazel did what he did.”  He sighed.  “The whole… the Winchesters are the descendants of Michael’s line, the Campbells of Lucifer’s.”

          Lindsey pushed some of her hair behind her ear and met Gabriel’s eyes.  “So, you don’t like Sam much.”

          “Nope.”  Gabriel grinned cheekily and took a bite out of his pastry.

          “You know an awful lot about his whole… thing… for a guy who hates Sam so much.”  

          Gabriel’s stomach lurched, but Sam covered for him.  “Yeah.  Well, Loki’s a trickster god, right?  His whole thing is pulling pranks, teaching ‘lessons’ to torture those who deserve it.  And he got me pretty good.  He had to do an awful lot of leg work.”  Sam’s right leg tapped out a staccato rhythm on the floor until he noticed it; only then did he put his hand on the leg and force it still.  

          Lindsey passed Sam a pastry, which he declined.  “I still don’t think it’s appropriate for you to sit there and look down on him for something that was done before he was even old enough to focus his eyes.  I mean, you make it sound like even his addiction was planned and necessary for this whole thing.”  Sam flinched.

          “Oh it was.  But I tried to warn you!” Gabriel snarled.  “I did!”  He had, too.  This whole mess could have been avoided if Sam had just walked away, left Dean to his fate – well, not really.  But it was easier to blame the kid who had done the final deed than to blame his brothers.

          “That wasn’t a warning,” Sam pointed out.  “It was torture.”  He exhaled, calm coming over his face.  “But it doesn’t matter, as long as you keep Lindsey safe.  Look.  I’m not giving Lucifer his vessel.  But I do want to help Dean in whatever way I can, as long as he doesn’t know about it.”

          The blonde shook her head.  “Why wouldn’t you want him to know?  Don’t you want to get back together with him?”  Gabriel wondered the same thing himself.

          “No,” Sam sighed.  “He doesn’t want me, thinks I’m a distraction, and he’s right.  He’s got a new partner, a better brother.  Angel.  You know.  And that’s a good thing.  He’ll be safer that way.  But I can help him in other ways – I can’t let him get used by Michael.”   His hands clenched by his side.

          “They’re well suited to each other,” Gabriel observed without thinking.  “Obedient soldiers, don’t like to think beyond the last order they’ve been given.”

          Sam glared.  “Shut up.”  He sighed.  “Okay.  So Dean’s going to want to shut down the Apocalypse.  He knows I’m the vessel –“

          “You told him?”  Gabriel stood, walking over to Sam’s precarious seat.  “Why would you do a damn fool thing like that if you’re trying to live?”

          “We both know that I’m not going to make it out of this alive, Loki.”  Sam looked away.  “And it doesn’t matter.”

          Lindsey covered her mouth, eyes wide.  “You called him for help.  You asked him for help with Lucifer, when you found out.”

          “Linds, it doesn’t matter.  He was right.  There’s no… he can’t save the world and save me.  And there’s no saving me.  He doesn’t need the distraction.  So.  He’ll look for the Colt.”

          Gabriel made a face.  “That old thing?”

          “It’ll kill anything.”  Sam shrugged.  “We had it for a while.  Bela Talbot stole it from us –“

          “From ‘us?’”  Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

          “Does it really matter?  He had other things on his mind.  Anyway, it’ll kill anything.”  Sam glared.  “That’s what Dean will think of.  He’ll use it to kill Lucifer.”

          “He’ll try to use it to kill Lucifer,” Gabriel corrected.  “He’ll get a lot of good people killed in the process and accomplish exactly nothing.”

          Sam paused, coffee halfway to his lips.  “What do you mean?”

          “There are five things that the Colt can’t kill.  They include the Archangels.  Lucifer, of course, is an Archangel.”  He shrugged.  “Sorry.”

          Sam put the coffee cup down.  “Shit.  I have to get word to him.”

          “You can’t call him from here, kiddo.  I’m afraid T-Mobile doesn’t reach into Asgard.”

          Lindsey’s eyes widened.  “We’re in Asgard?”

          “For now,” Gabriel reminded her.  “We’re not staying for long.  I don’t need Lucifer finding us, specifically finding _me_.  We’ll move along.  Look, Mr. Fine Wine over there, we’ll get word.  But first we’re going to work on your abilities.  We’re in a pocket part of Asgard, alright?  No one can get hurt here, so let’s go play.”  He sniffed.  “After you shower.  You stink.”

          “That’s what happens when you run, Loki.  You sweat.  It’s a thing we do.”

          “Yeah, but yours is laced with sulfur, kid.  Go.”  He waved his hand and shooed Sam away, leaving Lindsey alone with Gabriel again.

          She watched him with narrowed eyes.  “Do you have to be such a dick to him?” she asked.  “He’s trying to clean up his mess, he’s obviously depressed, do you have to make it worse?”

          Gabriel pretended to think about it.  “You know what?  I kind of do.”  He sighed.

          “From the way you made it sound, he didn’t even really have a choice, did he?”

          “Nope.”

          “Then why do you hate him so much?”

          “He still did it.  I mean, they put Luci in the box for a reason.  And he let him out.”  He could still remember Lucifer’s screams, if he let himself.

          “Did he even know that he was letting him out?”

          “I don’t care!” Gabriel roared.  For a moment, just a brief second, the walls trembled around him and he forced himself to rein it in.  He couldn’t show them what he really was, not if Lucifer was going to get an all-access pass to Sam’s brain.  “I just want it to be over with!  The truth is that once his idiot brother decided to sell his soul to resurrect him, this whole thing was foreordained.  The kid was always going to let Lucifer out once Dean went to Hell.  There’s nothing he can do about it now.”

          Lindsey was quiet for a moment.  “You don’t want to get attached,” she observed quietly.  “You don’t want to be upset if Lucifer takes him over.”

          Stupid humans, being observant.  Of course Sam wouldn’t be attracted to some brainless bimbo, his life couldn’t be that easy.  “It’s not if,” he told her spitefully.  “It’s when.  There’s nothing that kid in there – an addict, so despondent over losing his brother that he won’t fucking eat – can do to stop it.  Even if he was a stronger man, a better man, it would be impossible.  Lucifer is the strongest, the most powerful, the most beautiful archangel ever created.  Sam will fall down and spread ‘em like it was his idea all along.”  He smirked.

          Lindsey sat back.  “Uh-huh.  Why are you helping us, then?”

          Gabriel didn’t have an answer for that.  By the time that Sam came out of the shower, though, he had managed to regain his composure enough to start training with Sam as he’d suggested.  Sam had been reluctant, made some noise about how he wasn’t really up for making the same mistake twice, but he went along anyway.  Lindsey was strictly forbidden from joining them and she didn’t much want to come along anyway.  “That’s so far out of my comfort zone I don’t even want to think about it,” she told them.  It turned out that she enjoyed quilting as a hobby; Gabriel conjured up some supplies and let her go to town.

          Sam and Gabriel went some ways away from the cabin.  The giant didn’t show much interest in conversation, and Gabriel didn’t force it on him.  What was there to really talk about during a hike anyway?  “Hey, look, a tree?  Hey, look, a rock?  Pinecones, freaking pinecones!  Awesome, man!  Watch out for that moose!”  

          Eventually they came to a spot with a large rock to sit on, which Gabriel judged to be “good enough,” and he directed Sam to sit at his feet.  “I’m going to take a look and see what we’re working with.  To do that I’m going to have to touch you.”  Sam looked a little askance at that.  “Trust me, I don’t like it any more than you do,” Gabriel continued.  Under other circumstances – say, circumstances that didn’t involve hellfire under the skin – Gabriel might not have minded touching Sam, but those were terrible thoughts to let himself have.  Terrible thoughts to have now, terrible thoughts to have later. Sam wasn’t just some demon-human hybrid thing, he was the human body for Lucifer and there would be nothing left when it was over.  

          “Why do you have to do that, then?” Sam wanted to know.  His jaw clenched as Gabriel put his hands on either side of it.

          “Because the whole demon-human mix thing makes you hard to read.  There’s been other stuff since the last time I saw you, in Broward County.  I mean, you drinking demon blood didn’t do you any favors for one thing.”

          “It wasn’t supposed to do anything for _me_ ,” Sam growled.

          “Wasn’t it?”

          “No.”

          He waited for Sam to elaborate, but he didn’t.  “Anyway, there’s something else in there, some kind of warding.  And magic, too – witchcraft, it feels like, and strong stuff at that.”

          “The angel my brother’s running with branded our ribs with sigils to hide us from angels,” he volunteered.  “I guess they must work with gods too, at least a little bit.  I mean, you still found me.”  Gabriel looked at him, but there was no accusation in his face, only regret that he hadn’t hidden himself better.

          “I found you in a disgustingly human way, Winchester,” he admitted.  “I overheard some hunters in a bar talking about what a couple of hunters had done to you and then I went to the crappiest motel in Garber.  What about the witchcraft?”

          “Oh.  Uh, hex bag.  Ruby taught me to make them.  I made one for me and one for Dean, back before we split up.”  He shifted.

          “I’ve got to give you credit.  That’s pretty resourceful.  I’m impressed, Samsquatch.”  He started to focus his energy, looking through Sam’s brain for the source of his power.

          “Seriously?  You’re not pissed or anything?  I mean, Dean was pissed.”

          “Did you do anything particularly evil to make the hex bag?  I mean specifically evil, never mind that you were screwing a demon when you learned to make it.”

          “No.  I mean there’s a little bit of my own blood in the mix that went into it but no one else’s, no sacrifices or anything.”

          He sighed.  “Kid, you’d spill your own blood to give someone else a sandwich.”  He found what he was looking for.  “There we are.  Okay, kiddo.  Some of these… abilities… they were born in you.  Meaning they were already there before Azazel got to you.”  He felt the kid tense under him.  “You were always going to be psychic – precognitive, kid.  You were always going to be telekinetic.  What he did, what the blood did, was to kind of… well if you could see it, it would be like there’s a… a cage around this part of your brain, made from demon blood.”

          Sam said nothing.  “Sam?” Gabriel prodded.  “You with me here, kiddo, or am I talking to a friggin’ conifer?”

          “Yeah.  Sorry.  So I was always going to be a freak.”

          Damn it.  “It doesn’t make you a freak, kid.  You were always going to be a little bit different, but this runs in your family.  On your mother’s side.  I’d bet that every single one of the other kids that old Yellow Eyes did this to had the same thing going on.  And guess what?  They’re all distant relatives.  On the Campbell side.”

          He huffed out a little laugh.  “More dead family.  Fabulous.  Listen, Loki, if it’s, uh, caged by demon blood, isn’t it best to just leave it alone?”

          “It’s part of you, Sam.  And if you ignore it, it’s just going to come back to bite you in the ass.  Besides.  I can un-cage it, because I’m awesome.”

          “Loki, wait.  I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing Dean would want.”

          Gabriel sighed in exasperation.  “Dean doesn’t get a say, kiddo.  He cut you loose, remember?”

          “Because I broke the world, remember?  The last time I decided that I knew better what to do with my abilities and my body I broke the fucking planet.  It’s best to just… do what he wants and cut it out, pretend it’s not there.”  He bit at his nails.  Gabriel wondered if he even knew he was doing it.

          “Sam,” he began, and then trailed off.  It wasn’t like the kid wasn’t right, after all.  Of course, there hadn’t been a choice.  Not for him.  “Look.  It wasn’t about the powers, okay?  Drinking demon blood wasn’t the best way to go.  But the things you can do?  They’re not evil.  They’re just part of you, like your strength and your height and your eyes –“

          “The strength and the height owe a lot to Azazel too,” Sam muttered, moving away from Gabriel.  “It’s not like I haven’t done any research.”

          “Well, okay.”  There wasn’t a lot Gabriel could say to that.  “But there’s nothing you could’ve done about those.  But trust me.  These other things?  They were always there, Sam.”

          “That doesn’t make them human.  Or acceptable.”

          “I’m not human.  Your brother’s new partner, he’s not human either.”

          “Yeah, but he’s pure.  Angelic.  Good.”  Sam snorted.  “I’m, you know, dirty.”

          “Geez, would you stop thinking of yourself by Dean’s definitions?  You’re not with him, and you can’t live your life that way.  For crying out loud, dirty or clean isn’t going to get the job done.  Action is.  You’ve got me.  You’ve got Lindsey.  We’ll tell you if you’re going too dark, okay?  Now would you just move something so I can see how your brain works when you do it?”

          A rock from the ground rose up and hit Gabriel in the face.  “Alright,” the archangel said, rubbing at the spot.  “I can see how that particular skill works for you, at least.  When I was looking at your neurology I tried to uncage it from Azazel’s work and it looked like that was successful.”

          “You messed with my brain without my consent?” Sam objected, turning to look at him.

          “I’m kind of a dick like that,” Gabriel admitted.  “You might remember back to the pledge master and the probing?”

          Sam squirmed.  Gabriel thought he might be uncomfortable with the humor he’d found in the situation.  “It’s still not right,” he insisted with a vicious glare.  “It’s my body.  It’s my brain - I get to decide.  Not you.  Besides, who knows what you might have woken up?”

          “Relax, padawan.  I’ve been around for a very, very long time.  Your particular situation is new.  Evil forces fucking with human psychics?  Not so much.  You’re still on deck for Luci, don’t worry, but if you’re going to insist on trying to fight him I’d think trying to free yourself from the influence of the blood is probably in everyone’s best interest don’t you?  I mean, you’ll have to go back to Earth sometime and you’ll need to defend yourself and your girlfriend there.”

          “She’s not my girlfriend.”  Sam stood up.

          “She wants to be.”

          “She’ll get over that very quickly once she figures out what’s really going on.”  He looked around and settled his features.  “You said you might be able to find Dean?”

          “We can probably do that back at the cabin.”  Sam was agitated, but that made sense.  Gabriel had just messed with his brain and took a hammer to his view of his brother besides.   “Come on.  I’ll walk you back.”

          Sam was silent, but Gabriel could feel him bristle even though he wasn’t in physical contact.  Given the strength of his hex bag, that shouldn’t have been possible.  He decided to keep his mouth shut on the way back to the cabin, instead contemplating what he felt within himself.  Against all odds, even against his will, he found himself contemplating a future.  Sam was weak, everyone knew that.  He was an addict, after all.  He’d gone along willingly with the first person who claimed she could give him what he wanted, without much in the way of critical thought.  Why should he see a future that was based around Sam finding a way to thwart the most magnificent of God’s angels?

          Lindsey watched as Gabriel worked to scry out Dean.  He had little success until Sam reminded him that he’d made a hex bag for Dean too.  “He’s working with Castiel; maybe we should be looking for the angel instead of the human?” the giant suggested with a quirk of his lips that the archangel found more endearing than he wanted to.

          “How do you suppose we do that?” Gabriel huffed.  “I don’t think I have anything of his hanging around here.”

          “I might have hung onto a piece of his trenchcoat when he got nabbed back to heaven, back when they locked me in the panic room that time.”  He squirmed.  “I mean technically it’s Jimmy’s but –“

          “Cassie’s been wearing it for a while, and his Grace’s been oozing out like Swamp Thing,” the trickster interrupted him.  “Not a problem.  All we have to do is figure out where they are and drop you in, and presto-change-o, everything will be okay.”

          Sam just looked at him like he had three heads.  Lindsey’s expression wasn’t much better.  “It’s times like this that I remember that you’re not human,” the blonde commented, and looked back at the quilt block she was working on.

          “What do you mean?”  He fought to contain his ire.

          “Dean doesn’t want me around, Loki.  Dropping me into the middle of whatever he’s up to isn’t going to get him to be open minded on the subject of the Colt.  Dropping you in –“

          “Oh, no.  We’re not dropping me in.  Castiel will tell someone with feathers where to find me.”

          Both humans looked askance at Gabriel at that comment, and the archangel realized that he’d said too much.  Neither of them said anything about it, though, and Gabriel began to relax a little when Sam simply continued instead of questioning why he was so eager to avoid angels.  “You did kill Dean a hundred and eighty-seven times.  He doesn’t remember them, but he knows you did.  He’s not going to listen to you.  And Lindsey, he’s not going to be all that open-minded to you.  Just because…”

          “Lung hammers?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow.

          “I was going to say the connection with me,” Sam replied with a blush.  “But he’s… he can be kind of a knee-jerk guy if he doesn’t know someone.  I was thinking… what if we reach out to someone he knows?  Bobby’s not exactly going to give me a fair hearing, but I think I know who will.”

*

          Dean flung his head against the headrest in frustration.  The hunt wasn’t going well.  He and Cas had worked just fine together on the Raphael hunt.  Dean had had a blast on the Raphael hunt to be honest – more fun than he’d had with Sam since the freak had been in high school and no mistake.  He didn’t have anything to worry about with Cas.  There was no question about whose side Cas was on.  There was no addiction issue with Cas.  There was no question about him getting all power hungry.  There was just Cas.

          At the same time, the last hunt had been very much an angel thing.  They’d been looking for an angel, they’d found an angel, they’d dealt with an angel.  Cas knew about angels.  This hunt… well, it was something else.  It was something that Cas knew exactly nothing about.  And Dean hadn’t thought it would be much of an issue when he’d started out.  He’d thought it would be a good way to integrate Castiel into the business of hunting, into the business of worrying about humanity because it wasn’t like the guy knew a damn thing about humans or their care.  He’d come through in the end but it had honestly been too little, too late.  Cas wanted to do this, and so Dean wanted to make sure he learned how to do it right.  A vengeful spirit was the best way to cut your teeth hunting.

          Except it wasn’t quite so cut and dry.  Nothing about the case made sense. Cas was great about knowledge if they were dealing with research on angelic stuff, or demonic stuff, or occasional pagan stuff that related to a very small part of the Levant or sometimes Mesopotamia.  You know, stuff from the Bible.  Absolutely nothing that related to possessed or haunted racecars.  And he was useless when it came to researching things outside his comfort zone, even though he insisted that he’d read “every book of relevance since the dawn of literacy, Dean.”

          If Sammy’d been here, he’d have downed a few froofy lattes, spent a few hours with his laptop (because that wasn’t unnatural) and come up with answers.   Sammy would have thought outside the box and had a theory.  He’d have had some ideas after the first time they visited that damn creepy wax museum.  He’d have probably even come up with something stupid about how goddamn Gandhi was his stupid idol, and had some kind of ridiculous knowledge that only the guy’s personal assistant or wife should have know about him like how the dude only ate fruit or something.

          But Sammy wasn’t here.  Sammy wasn’t answering his goddamn phone, he’d disconnected it.  And no one had heard from him in weeks.

          And that… well, it had to be okay, right?  Because Sammy had screwed everything up.  He’d listened to a demon; he’d drunk demon blood.  He was an addict and always would be.  He needed watching, and Dean had an apocalypse to derail.  He didn’t have time to sit there and babysit a junkie.  He needed to keep his eyes on the prize.  Even if Cas might be stiff and awkward and fried the laptop when he touched it and wasn’t able to talk to a witness to save his goddamn life he was a better partner than a half-demon junkie who couldn’t be trusted.

          Right?

          The image of Lucifer wearing Sam’s skin, in a dreadful white suit, sprang to his mind.

          His phone rang, jolting him away from the memory.  He answered it with gratitude.  “Yeah?”

          “That how we’re answering the phone these days?” Ellen’s borderline-hostile voice came through.  “’Yeah?’  Were you raised in a barn, Dean?”

          “Just in a car, Ellen.”  Dean grinned.  “How’re you doing?  It’s good to hear from you.”

          “Ah, you know.  Things are things.  Jo and I took out a succubus a few days ago down in Virginia Beach.  We thought of you.”

          He shifted.  “I can’t tell if I should be flattered or insulted.”

          “Well, you know.  You do have a reputation, Dean.  Anyway, I’m calling about Sam.”

          Dean froze.  “Ellen, I’m not going to talk about Sam with you.”

          “I ain’t asking you to, boy.  I got a call from him today.”

          Dean paused, waiting for his brain to catch up with what he’d just heard.  “A call.”

          “Yeah, on the phone.  Amazing what technology can do.”

          “His phone was disconnected, Ellen.”  His mind raced.  Hadn’t they faced something that worked through phone lines before?  “Did he ask you to ‘Come to me?’”

          “He called from a pay phone in New Hampshire, somewhere.  He asked me to give you a call.”  She sighed.  “He wanted me to pass a message along to you.”

          “How come he didn’t just call me himself, then?” Dean bit out.

          He couldn’t see her face, but he could see her death glare.  It could probably kill a rattlesnake at fifty paces.  “I don’t know, it probably had something to do with you wanting to stay in separate hemispheres.  Anyway, he thinks you’re likely to go looking for the Colt.”

          Dean remembered seeing the Colt in his future counterpart’s hands.  He remembered seeing his older body lying dead on the ground.  “It seems like the best bet, don’t you think?”

          “You’d have thought.  Apparently there are five things that the Colt can’t kill, and archangels are one of them.”  She cleared her throat when he apparently let too much time go before responding.  “You there, Dean?”

          “Yeah.  I’m just wondering how he knows that.”

          “Says he’s been doing research of his own.  Makes sense, you know?  Kid could always ferret out details like that.  Besides, he’s psychic, remember?  He probably had a vision.  Said if you tried to use it on Lucifer the bastard wouldn’t die, but a lot of good people would.”

          “Says the guy who let him out of the box to begin with.”

          Ellen’s voice was sharper than a scalpel when she found it in herself to speak again.  “Dean Winchester, you know that boy didn’t intend to let him out.  You know damn well he was trying to stop it.  No wonder the kid didn’t want to call you direct.”

          “Yeah, well, it wasn’t you he betrayed.”

          “And it wasn’t me who told him he was a monster,” she spat back.  “That boy is trying.  Anyway.  Colt’s a bust, but he says if you find it before he does he’s got another scheme he wouldn’t mind having it for.”

          “If it’s not going to kill an archangel what the hell does he need it for?” Dean snapped.  He didn’t need Ellen’s judgment.  She didn’t have to live with the kid.  Hell, she’d always been soft toward him, that was probably why he’d called her in the first place instead of calling him or Bobby.

          “Ain’t like he told me, boy,” she told him firmly.  “I don’t think he expected you to give it up, but he wanted to make sure you didn’t pin your plans on it or anything.  Didn’t want you to be disappointed or get people killed.  There’s already been enough of that.”

          “Yeah, well, whose fault is that?”  He was lashing out, he knew he was lashing out.  He seemed to be incapable of stopping himself.

          “You find that thing you just leave it with Bobby Singer,” she told him after a moment.  “I’ll get it from him, find a way to pass it on to Sam.  I trust that he’s got a plan that’ll work.”

          He paused for a moment.  “How did he sound, Ellen?”

          “Oh, now you care?”

          “He’s my brother.  Yeah, I care.”

          “He sounded like he hasn’t slept in weeks, Dean.  He sounded like he’s got the Devil himself on his heels.  But he ain’t your problem anymore.”  She hung up.

          Dean flung his phone into the passenger seat footwell.  He needed to focus.  Sammy had made his own bed.  He had to lie in it.  He’d done enough to try to coddle the kid – he’d gone to Hell for him, damn it – and look where it had gotten them.  Besides, it wasn’t like he could contact the kid anyway.  Right now he had to focus on what he could do.  And that was – hopefully – put together why people who visited a wax museum kept dying.  

 

 


	3. Press My Nose Up To The Glass Around Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's party time - cambion party time!

Gabriel glowered at Sam.  “You asked this Harvelle woman to pass along the Colt?”

       The kid didn’t hunch over.  He didn’t even have the good grace to look guilty.  He met Gabriel’s eyes squarely.  “Yes.  I did.  I don’t think much good is going to come of it, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

       “Planning to shoot me down, Sammy?” he snarled.  “Is that what you’re cooking up?  Because I’ve got to tell you, that’s pretty low considering that I brought you and your blonde there to Asgard, defended you, have been helping to reroute the circuits in your brain so you can defend yourself without the blood –“

       Sam just looked at Gabriel like he was trying to figure out how he’d gotten to be so stupid.  “Don’t you think that I’d have, you know, not asked her to get the Colt in front of you if I was planning to shoot you with it?” he asked, sounding torn between exasperation and disgust.  “I mean I know I’ve done some dumb shit, Loki, but that would be, like, beyond kindergarten level.  I’m sneakier than that, come on.  I’m a con man and a thief, not a concussed rabbit.”

       Lindsey snickered.  “Con man and a thief, huh?”

       “I told you I was the wrong horse to hitch your cart to, Lindsey,” Sam huffed a little.  “You would not believe some of the cons we’ve had to pull.  I once convinced a hospital in Wisconsin that I was a CDC investigator with nothing but a novelty badge that said ‘Bikini Inspector.’”  A shadow passed over his eyes, but he kept going.  “Broke into an art auction house, too.”  And just like that, he’d steered the conversation away from what exactly he planned to do with the Colt.

       It wasn’t that Gabriel was afraid of the stupid Colt, it couldn’t touch him.  That was the whole problem - it couldn’t hurt him.  And Sam wasn’t stupid enough to think he was going to waste the thing on demons, not while he was working to resurrect his brain mojo or whatever.  So – what was he planning to do with it?  Take pot shots at lower level angels?  Save it for a rainy day?  Keep it out of Dean’s hands in the hopes that Dean wouldn’t try anything exceptionally stupid with it?

       “So where are we, anyway?” the blonde wanted to know, after ooh-ing and aah-ing over Sam’s illegal exploits.  Gabriel had done far more illegal things than Sam had, and had way more resources at his disposal to do them with.  She should be fluttering her eyelashes at him, not the mutton-headed jerk who had ended the world.

       What was wrong with him that he was even thinking like that?  He was a god, he didn’t get jealous.

       “White Mountain National Forest,” Gabriel informed them proudly.  “Exceptionally beautiful this time of year, right?”

       Lindsey favored him with a smile.  “Absolutely.”  She gazed around herself at the foliage, at its peak this time of year.  “I’ve never been to New England before.  It’s… it’s stunning, Loki.”

       He couldn’t help it.  He preened.  “We’ve got a cabin over here.  It’s not huge, just two bedrooms, but it’ll do.”  He led down the small path and showed them into the little log cabin that he kept out here.  It didn’t look like much from the outside; no different than any of the other cabins people kept up here.  Inside, it exuded a rustic charm.  “The guest room has two beds in,” he began.

       “I’ll take the couch,” Sam assured them both, putting his duffel down on the item.  “A lady deserves her privacy.  So.  New Hampshire for a while, huh?”  His eyes twinkled.  “Do we have to learn to fake the accents?”

       It would have been easy for Gabriel to get distracted by those eyes, but he couldn’t let that happen.  That couldn’t go anywhere, after all.  “I figure it’s a good idea to get Lindsey started learning how to defend herself.”  He shrugged.  “No one’s going to think twice up here about a little bit of shooting, and it’s pretty remote.  People won’t see devil’s traps or the like.”  He wiggled his eyebrows at Lindsey.  “You wanted on this ride, baby.  Time to learn how to steer.”

       Sam fixed him with a look.  “Seriously?”

       “What?  She did!”

       “You sound like a cheesy porno from the seventies.”

       “I’ll have you know that there is nothing cheesy about me, bucko.”

       Lindsey broke out laughing.  “Oh, okay.  How about if you prove it instead of just telling me there’s nothing cheesy about you, Ron Jeremy?”

       “I’m going for a run,” Sam told them, and left.

       Gabriel and Lindsey looked at the back of the cabin door for a moment.  “Jealous much?” the archangel snarked, raising an eyebrow.

       “I think he’s trying to be helpful,” Lindsey opined, shaking her head.  “He thinks a little bit of banter means we’re going to be tearing our clothes off.”

       Gabriel snorted.  “Well I suppose that we could, but you’re interested in Samsquatch.  Not me.  And while I’m a far more interesting candidate I respect other people’s choices.”

       The lady laughed.  “Yeah.  I am interested in Sam.  I mean, who wouldn’t be?  He’s tall.  He’s not just handsome, he’s beautiful.  He’s smarter than anyone I’ve ever known, and he’s sweeter than my aunt Elsie’s tea.  But,” she held up a hand, “he is not interested in me.”

       Gabriel wrinkled up his nose.  “Oh come on.  I’ve seen him looking at you.  The two of you have chemistry radiating off of you like a whole room full of Bunsen burners.”

       She shrugged.  “Maybe.  But he says he’s not in the right place to start anything.  He’s a little depressed, in case you hadn’t noticed?”  She sat down beside the trickster.

       He made a face.  “He kind of ended the world, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

       “You keep saying that, like you have to remind yourself of it.  If you hate him so much why do you keep trying to encourage me to hop into his bed?”

       “Because you want to be together.”  He swallowed once.  He was both an archangel and a god; he wasn’t used to rejection.  He definitely wasn’t used to coming in second.  He’d accept her decision, because while he could be a dick he wasn’t that kind of dick, but he didn’t have to like it.

       “No.”  She shook her head, but her shoulders didn’t slump.  “We’re attracted to each other.  Sure I’d like something more.  But I’m not about to force it on him.   And it’s not a true love forever thing.”  She rolled her eyes.  “I like him.  I want to help him; I’ll stick up for him for a long time.  But it’s not like I’m going to pine away without him.”

       He leered.  “So you think there might be room in your life for a shorter guy who just happens to be a god?”

       She laughed.  “You’re not awful,” she confessed.  “Except when you’re not being a complete dick to Sam.  But let’s face it.”  She leaned in close.  “You wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers either.”

       Gabriel had never really understood that phrase, but he supposed he didn’t have to.  Lindsey had already gotten up and walked into the guest room, putting away the clothes and toiletries that he’d snapped up for her.  It wasn’t like she’d had time to pack when they’d fled Oklahoma.  She didn’t need much, though – she was an uncomplicated sort of girl, in a lot of the same ways that Sam wasn’t a complicated sort of guy.  They both traveled light, didn’t want a lot of fussy accessories or hair things or fancy crap.  They were both fiercely loyal, and practical to a fault – in Sam’s case, to the point of Armageddon.

       Sam came back two hours later, sweaty and gross.  Gabriel just looked at him with disgust and snapped his fingers; the sweat and grime disappeared as though they’d never been there.  “That’s two long-ass runs you’ve been on today, Winchester,” he scowled.

       “His cardio has got to be… just, like, perfect,” Lindsey marveled.  She sat down at the table, where grilled steaks appeared before them.  Gabriel liked doing that; angels might not need to eat but he loved food.

       “Nothing but the best for old Luci,” the trickster snarked.

       Lindsey kicked him under the table.  Sam ignored him, sitting down at the end of the table.  “So.  I’ve been thinking.  What about pocket realities?”

       Gabriel blinked.  “Is that a whole separate reality in your pocket or are you just really happy to see me, kiddo?”  He waggled his eyebrows.  Neither of his companions was impressed.  “What?  It was a joke!  And that was one hell of a non-sequitur, even for you.”

       “You dropped me into an alternate reality that was like Groundhog Day for a hundred eighty-seven days.  Then you dropped me into another one when you decided to not bring Dean back and I turned into a useless robot for six months.  Is there maybe a way to drop Lucifer into a pocket reality like you did to me?”  Sam met his eyes.

       “Oh.”  He sighed.  “Short answer?  No.”

       Lindsey rolled her magnificent eyes.  “How about the long answer, oh great and mighty god?”

       “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he leered, mostly for effect.  This wasn’t an easy topic; he didn’t need to make it clear just how difficult it was.  “You’re special, Samarooni.  You’re very special.  And I don’t think that there’s a human alive who could have gotten out of either of those realities.  But compared to Lucifer?  You’re a paramecium at best, bud.”

       Sam offered up a mirthless chuckle.  “I’m aware.  We met.”

       “Wait, what?”  He shook his head.  “Don’t answer that yet, I’m on a roll.  I can create whole new worlds, to put your pathetic mortal asses in.  Lucifer’s not just an archangel.  He’s the biggest.  The best.  The most magnificent of his Father’s creations.  I mean sure I’m good, but the only being with the juice to build a place to contain Luci is God.  And he’s not so much with the hands-on these days.”  He didn’t miss the glance exchanged between the mortals before him.  “What?”

       “Nothing.”  Lindsey cleared her throat, but reached out and grabbed a glass of water.  “You sounded tense, but you’re probably just a little competitive.  I mean, you’re a god yourself.”

       “And don’t you forget it,” he scowled.  Okay, sure, he was being petty, but the whole “Dad” thing was kind of a sore point for him.

       “So.  No pocket reality.  Maybe there’s a way to… I don’t know, slip the whole planet into a pocket reality?” Sam tried, working the puppy dog eyes as hard as he could.

       “Nice try.  But also no.  I mean, sure, it’s appealing.  But an entire planet?  Seven billion people?  Yeah, that would take some kind of blood sacrifice.”

       “What kind of blood sacrifice?” Sam wanted to know, leaning forward.

       Lindsey looked at him in horror, but Gabriel knew what he had in mind.  “More blood than even your super-sized body contains, kid.  And I know you better than to think you’re going to be willing to sacrifice anyone who isn’t, you know, you.”  For some reason that didn’t seem to make Lindsey’s face relax at all, but Gabriel didn’t pretend to understand humans.  “Sorry to disappoint, but that’s more juice than even I’ve got.”

       Sam slumped.  “It was worth a shot.”  He pulled his laptop out of his bag.

       “Wait wait wait.”  Lindsey shook her head.  “You want to back up on that whole, ‘sacrifice’ thing?”

       “It’s worth it if it will stop this whole ball of… if it will stop the end.”  Sam shrugged.  “But it won’t.  So we’ll find another way.  Hey, Loki – looks like you’ve got a little bit of competition.”

       He raised his eyebrows.  “What, is Coyote stirring things up right now?  I’d have thought he’d want to lie low with everything going on.  He’s probably the last person I’d expect to want to get involved with the whole Apocalypse, he never did care for the whole Abrahamic thing.”

       Sam raised an eyebrow.  “No?”

       “Calls the Abrahamic God the ‘Usurping God.’  And he’s not hugely wrong.”  He squirmed.  It wasn’t like anyone was going to come in and bust him for blasphemy but it still felt wrong.  “Last I heard Anansi wasn’t in the area either; he’d usually stop in and say hello before doing anything fun.  We can usually cut up a rug together when we really want to.”

       Sam looked a little green at that.  “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what you and an African god of cunning and trickery consider ‘cutting a rug.’  Although I have to say these items look… pretty mild.  We’ve got kids – like, middle school kids – being hospitalized for ulcers created when they ‘mixed Pop Rocks and Coke.’”  He smirked a little.  “Let’s see, a man who allegedly tried to use a joy buzzer on a colleague and wound up electrocuting himself, that’s pretty grim.  An eight year old put itching powder in his babysitter’s hairbrush and she wound up literally scratching her own brains out.”  He grimaced.  “Huh.”

       Lindsey made a face.  “You really… this stuff can’t be real.”

       “Sure, why not?”  Gabriel shrugged.  “I mean I don’t think it’s a Trickster, though.  Not like me.  It’s definitely supernatural but guys like us; we operate on a larger scale.  Do these attacks seem targeted?”

       Sam glanced at him.  “It’s hard to tell from a distance, but not really.  From what I can tell it just looks like a bunch of people just… had stuff happen to them.  It doesn’t look like any part of a master plan.”  His fingers were already dancing over the keyboard.  “I mean, the cops don’t seem to think that there’s any connection between the victims, no more so than there usually would be in a small town.  And there isn’t any kind of… malice, I guess?”

       “Bingo,” Gabriel told him.  “I never go after an innocent, kid.  There’s always a reason that I do what I do.  Same with Coyote.  Same with Anansi.  Someone has to do something to attract our attention.  The professor was sliming all over his students.  The pledge master was doing a lot worse than probing the new pledges.  And the researcher?  Getting devoured by sewer gators was too good for him.  These people?  I mean, there’s something about these incidents that’s just screaming at me but I can’t think of what it is.”

       “Wait a minute.  The joy buzzer?”  Lindsey snapped her fingers and strode over behind Sam, looking over his shoulder.  “It electrocuted the guy using it, not the guy receiving it?  My grandma used to tell my brother that he’d give himself a ‘nasty shock with those one of these days, Billy,’” she mimicked in a terrible imitation of an old-lady Michigan accent.

       “Hmm.”  Sam narrowed his eyes at the computer screen.  “So get this.  Everyone knows that drinking Coke after eating Pop Rocks will give you an ulcer if it doesn’t make you actually explode.”  He met Gabriel’s eyes.  “It’s one of those things, those hazing-the-new-kid things.  They try to get you to do all sorts of stupid crap.”

       “Oh God, you never did that, did you?”  Lindsey put a hand on his shoulder.

       “Of course not.  I didn’t want my stomach to explode.  I’d rather let them lock me in a locker instead.”  He snorted.  “Besides, I never did have much of a sweet tooth.”

       “Wait a minute, you got locked in lockers?” she scoffed.

       “I hit my growth spurt late,” he told her flatly.  “What if… what if these aren’t the work of a trickster at all?”

       “That’s what I said, kid,” Gabriel smirked, flopping back in his chair.

       “I mean, look at what’s going on.  A young kid might believe that a joy buzzer would give you an electric shock.  A young kid might believe that Pop Rocks and Coke would give you an ulcer.  A young kid would believe that you could scratch right down and into your brain – you can’t, your skull would get in the way, but…”

       A sinking sensation developed in Gabriel’s stomach, or where it should have been.  “Oh no.”

       “What is it?” Lindsey demanded, hands still on Sam’s shoulders.

       “Hopefully not what I think it is.  Is there anything else going on, there, Sam?”

       Sam looked up at the lack of insulting nickname.  “Uh, yeah.”  His fingers danced again, clicks and clacks from the keyboard the only sound.  “Looks like the local hospital has sent for a plastic surgeon.  Apparently two kids were making faces and found themselves struck by sudden bouts of facial paralysis.”

       “Alright.  Alright.”  Gabriel hid his eyes for a moment.  “This is serious stuff, folks.  I hope I’m wrong, but we have to go and check just to be sure.  Grab your bags and stuff.  We need to go.”  He grinned.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll come back.”

       Sam never unpacked, so he was ready as soon as his laptop was stowed.  Lindsey took all of five minutes.  Gabriel snapped his fingers and between one moment and the next the trio moved from New Hampshire to small-town Nebraska.  They had a motel room – just one, it was all Gabriel was willing to risk, but he wasn’t terribly worried.  They were probably dealing with one of the most dangerous creatures known to man; sex wasn’t going to be an issue and even if it was, hey, the more the merrier.  The archangel altered the motel’s records just enough to show that the room was booked while Sam and Lindsey went out to investigate what was going on.

       They had their way of doing things, and while Gabriel was a little leery of Sam being out and about before he had the chance to test his powers without the demonic steroids he had to admit that the kid had been doing this for a very long time and was actually pretty good at it.   In the meantime Gabriel had work to do of his own, work that the others just didn’t need to see him doing.  He sat in the middle of the motel room, closed his eyes and extended his consciousness.

       For the most part the town was about as close to Mayberry as you could get without slipping into a pocket reality.  People were nice.  They smiled at strangers and gave correct directions to tourists.  They went to church on Sundays without judging people who didn’t uphold the tenets of their faith.  They worked hard, enjoyed their families, and took pleasure in working on their homes.  They clipped coupons and saved money.  The whole town turned out for football games at the high school.  There wasn’t anything particularly supernatural about this place.

       There were exceptions.  Little pockets of teen angst and rebellion poked through like red lights in a comforting dark night, probably Ouija boards and adolescent séances.  There was one ghost, a pioneer matriarch keeping watch over her descendants.  The most exciting thing she did was nudge food toward a fussy baby.  He couldn’t sense Sam, of course, the kid was too well protected for that, but he could sense something else.  Something intense, something powerful.  Something terrifying.

       He pulled back before that intelligence could sense him.  Instead, cloaking himself in so many layers of pagan magic and psychic mirrors that he could barely even sense himself, he opened his mind up to the proper frequency and let himself hear his siblings on Angel Radio.  The whispers were faint and subtle, but they did exist: a cambion, a true cambion not something like Sam Winchester.  A virgin birth, but demonic instead of divine.

       He pulled back from Angel Radio, reluctant though he was.  To be connected even in such an insulated, muffled way was almost painful in its relief, but it only highlighted how little he belonged in Heaven and how dangerous it was for him to connect even in that minimal way anymore.  Instead he focused his attention outward.  As he half-expected, he caught the signature of Castiel’s Grace approaching from the east.  They had some time, at least there was that, but he should have known better than to think that a case like this wouldn’t have attracted the attention of Dean Winchester.  And Castiel – he might have rebelled to fight alongside the Righteous Man but there was no way in Hell he was going to suffer a cambion to live.  That the guy’d tolerated Sam’s existence as long as he had said volumes about Castiel’s attachment to Dean.

       Crap.  Well, now they had to talk about what was going to be done about the cambion.

       He’d taken longer in his meditations than he’d thought – the mortals were coming back into the room as he opened his eyes.  He hoped that they gave no indication of what he really was as he stood up.  “Find out anything interesting?” he asked.  He wasn’t sweating.  Angels didn’t sweat.  Their heart rates didn’t climb either, so he was perfectly calm and not at all nervous about Castiel’s impending arrival.

       “Well, it just keeps getting weirder,” Lindsey said, flopping down onto one of the beds.  “The tooth fairy extracted each and every tooth from a plumber’s mouth the other night.  Left him a hundred bucks though.”

       “Come on, Linds, you’re forgetting the best part.”  Sam smirked, taking off his tie.

       “Right.  The tooth fairy in question was five foot ten, three hundred fifty pounds, identified as male, had a beard and impressive stubble and wore a glittery pink tutu.”  Lindsey offered a tight smile.  “This is the family business you left, Sam?”

       “Yup.”  He put extra emphasis on the “p,” a sign of a rare good mood.  Or at least a better mood than usual.

       “I can see why you got out.  Then – then! – there was the outbreak of, uh, hair growth.”  Sam covered his face with his hands, snickering.

       Gabriel couldn’t help but grin.  “Hair growth?”

       “A rash of unexplained hair growth on the palms of boys between thirteen and eighteen.”  She glared at both males.  “Is this really all that funny?”

       “Do they not threaten girls with that?” Sam choked out.

       “Apparently people like to try to stop boys from touching themselves by telling them that they’ll grow hair on their palms.”  The trickster took pity on the poor woman.  “I don’t know why, it’s a perfectly healthy activity and it’s not like you get diseases or pregnancy from it, but whatever.  What else did you learn?”

       She rolled her eyes.  “Well Mr. Wizard over there put in the points of the incidents on a map on that laptop, and they made a spiral, and at the center of the spiral was a house.  And in that house was a little boy.  Eleven years old.”

       Gabriel’s jaw dropped.  He knew that Sam was smart, intellectually, but he kept forgetting until the guy just… pulled something out of his brain like this.  “So you just… tracked down the creature – person – we’re hunting.”

       Sam swallowed.  “Well I don’t know what’s going on with him but the activity centers around him.  Yeah.  He’s a nice kid, Loki.  Gentle, sweet.  Innocent,” he emphasized.  “He wouldn’t knowingly hurt a fly.”

       “Literally,” Lindsey added.  “He found one in the house and gently caught it in a paper cup and escorted it outside.”

       “Damn it,” Gabriel cursed.

       “What do you mean?” both mortals objected.

       The archangel sighed.  “The kid’s an antichrist.”

       Sam blinked.  “Uh…”

       “Yeah.  I mean, so are you.  But that’s different.  This one makes you look like just a normal human baby with a birth defect.”  Lindsey glared, but he ignored her.  “This kid, he’s got the whole Jesus thing going on, just… demonic.  We’re talking virgin birth, the works.  And he’s got the power to bend all the reality around him to his little whim.  Which is what you’re seeing now.”

       “Loki,” Sam interrupted, “he doesn’t know he’s doing it.  Jesse’s just an innocent kid.  He has no idea.”

       Gabriel groaned.  “I know.  I know.  The demon who made him probably wasn’t even thinking about the apocalypse, they were just thinking about destruction and suffering.  But the thing is, angels are already aware of the boy’s existence.  I don’t know if they know where he is yet, but at least one is already on his way to kill him.”

Both of the humans frowned.  “You know this how?” Lindsey asked, scratching her head.

Gabriel scoffed.  Why couldn’t he be attracted to stupid humans?  None of the gods he’ d been with had ever figured anything out.  “You don’t think I’ve managed to survive this long without learning to figure out a way to listen in on the winged dicks, did you?”  He shook his head and crossed the room.

       “Dean,” Sam whispered, turning pale.  “Loki, Jesse’s just a kid.  There has to be a way to save him.”

       “You were just a kid.  There was no saving you.”

He hadn’t meant the words harshly; he’d meant them to be consoling, honestly, but apparently he was about as good at “conciliatory” and “supportive” as he was at keeping his family together because Sam went from pale and wan to narrow-eyed and nostrils flaring in about zero seconds flat.  

       Lindsey stood up and got between the two men.  “That was uncalled for,” she seethed.  “It’s not like Sam ever had all of the information.  Did you, Sam?”

       “It doesn’t matter,” he sighed, deflating a little at Lindsey’s words.  “I was always damned.”  He lifted his head up.  “But Jesse doesn’t have to be.  If we can find a way to keep him safe, he can make the right decisions about himself.  He doesn’t have to be a monster like me.”

       “Hell is always going to be after him,” Gabriel insisted.  “Heaven is going to want him dead and Hell is going to want to use him as a weapon.  That’s no life for a kid.”

       “Give him the information.  Let him decide,” Sam demanded.  “He’s a good kid, Loki.  He can make the right choice, if we trust him to do it.”

       The two men stared at each other for a moment, while Lindsey put her hand on Sam’s bicep.  “You’re not wrong,” Gabriel finally admitted.  “For the kid himself, you’re not wrong.  He’s a kid, just a good kid, and we… I mean there has to be some way of helping him.  If we can keep him off the radar.  The problem is that Castiel, with his constant companion, is on his way right now.  He’s not going to be interested in ‘could be’ and ‘making the right decision.’  He’s not a big believer in free will.”

       “I’ve noticed,” Sam said, relaxing visibly.  He didn’t seem to care that Gabriel had some acquaintance with Castiel.  Maybe he chalked it all up to the stalking Gabriel had done; after all, it wasn’t like that had been a secret.  “What do we do?”

       “Well, hopefully we get there before they do.  If they get onsite while we’re still there, I have to disappear, guys.  I can’t be seen.  Not by an angel.  I’ll do what I can to help Jesse – his name’s Jesse, you said?”  Sam nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll do what I can, but I can’t risk angels finding me.  I can’t help you or Lindsey if that happens.”

       “Let’s go then,” Lindsey urged.”

       Gabriel snapped his fingers.

 

*

 

       Dean had no idea what to expect.  Cas hadn’t given him much information, he’d just gotten this look of terror on his face and said, “We must go to Nebraska, Dean.  There is not much time!” and bam!  Off to the races they were.  He’d wanted to fly them there but there was no way that Dean was letting that happen.  Like he was going into a fight against some kind of creature he’d never heard of, something that could make an angel blanch, without everything his baby had to offer.  Right.  As if.

       Of course, that didn’t mean that his partner wasn’t going to mess with things a bit.  The drive should have taken close to twenty hours without breaks, and there was no way that Dean was going to stop for anything but coffee throughput given what a spook this thing put into Cas.  As it turned out, the sign for Box Butte County appeared after just ten hours.  Alliance would not be far away.  “So you want to tell me what to expect here, Cas?  I’m kind of flying blind here, buddy,” he finally asked.

       Cas glanced at him.  “I believe that a cambion has become active in Alliance.”

       “Well that… sounds terrifying.  Or it would, if I had the first clue what a freaking cambion is.”  He sipped from his coffee and glanced at a road sign.  “Hey, Carhenge.  I came here with Sammy once, years ago.  Before he left for Stanford, I mean.”

       “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?”  Cas snorted.  “A cambion is an antichrist.”

       “Wait a minute.  I thought Sammy was the antichrist.”

       “He is.  There is more than one way to be an antichrist.  What they have in common is a combination of human and demon blood, and an evil destiny.  Your brother was born human, but became a cambion through consumption of demon blood.  An abomination.” He gestured vaguely and looked out the window.

       “He was six months old, Cas.  He was still pissing his pants.”  Dean gripped the wheel of the car.

       “It doesn’t matter, Dean.  The fact is that the consumption of the blood made him something not human and cemented his evil destiny.  It damned him. “  He glanced back at Dean, opened his mouth and closed it again.  “And he might have been an infant when he tasted demon blood for the first time, but he was an adult when he made his choices again.”

       Dean growled.  The reminder helped.  “Yeah.  He was.”  So had Dean been, when he’d sold his soul for the kid.  If he hadn’t sold his soul, would Sam have still been damned?  He supposed he would have.  Sam hadn’t been human since the fire, after all.  His entire sacrifice had been a waste of time.  “So you’re saying that he’s one of these things?”

       “If he avoids the demon blood and avoids using his powers he is probably safely contained.  Until, of course, he says ‘yes’ to Lucifer.”  Dean couldn’t help but think back to the white suit, the coolly calm voice.  “The creature we currently hunt is something else.  It is… I believe that it is different.  Born of a human virgin –“

       Dean’s jaw dropped.  “What, like Jesus?  Can he turn water into wine too?”

       The angel threw him a squinty-eyed glare.  It was not a bitch face but it was as close as he was going to get for… well, the rest of time, apparently.  The thought hurt more than it should after all this time apart.  “Blasphemy is not funny, Dean.  He is born of a human virgin who is impregnated by the demon who possesses her.  He will be a great weapon in the arsenal of Satan.”

       “Well that’s just fan-friggin-tastic.”  He sighed, restraining himself from slamming his hand on the dashboard.  “Do you think he’s said yes yet?”

       “Who, the cambion?”

       “No, not ‘the cambion,’” he mimicked.  “Not that one, anyway.  My brother.”

       “We could not be unaware if he had, Dean.”  Cas put a hand that was probably meant to be reassuring on his leg.  “So far he has shown himself to be stronger than I anticipated.”

       Part of Dean took offense to that.  Sam was his brother, Sam had taken everything that the world had dished out and kept on ticking.  Sam had managed to keep on going after Dean died in New Harmony, whereas Dean had lasted all of what, two or three days before he went off to find the nearest crossroads?  Then again, Sam had gone and gotten himself addicted, Sam had tried to call him for help when he knew that Dean was done with him.  Sam was the weakest of the weak.  Sam would cave eventually, it was just a matter of time.

       Castiel directed him to an older-looking house, maybe dating to the nineteen-twenties.  It looked relatively normal in the streetlight – a bicycle neatly leaning against the wall up on the porch, out of the way and out of the weather.  Nice and trim yard, unpretentious landscaping.  He glanced at Cas.  “Hardly looks like the abode of Hell’s greatest weapon,” he commented.

       “Looks can be deceiving,” the angel retorted.  “Let’s go inside.”

       The door, they found, was unlocked.  They were not, however, the first to stop in to look for this particular antichrist.  A small boy, maybe eleven years old, stood in the living room with big, teary eyes looking up at none other than Sam.   Sam was flanked by a blonde woman in a floral blouse and by a diminutive man with honey-colored hair who disappeared as soon as Dean and Cas walked in the door. “Because I have to believe,” Sam was saying as he dropped to one knee, “that someone can make the right choice.  Even if I couldn’t.”   

       Well if that didn’t just tug on the heartstrings.  Dean couldn’t afford that anymore.  “What the hell, Sam?” Dean demanded gruffly.  “Was that the freaking Trickster?”

       Sam whirled around, rising to his feet and thrusting the boy behind him.  “Dean!” he gasped.

       Blondie raised an eyebrow.  “This is Dean?  Seriously?”  She didn’t seem impressed.

       “Sam, step away from the boy.  He is a cambion and must be destroyed.”  Cas stepped forward, hand upraised as if to smite.

       Sam’s hands were loose by his sides, and his eyes were clear and unafraid.  “Not a chance, Cas.  This is an eleven-year-old kid with his entire life ahead of him.  I’m not about to just roll over so you can cut that life short because of what you think he might do.”

       “I don’t recall asking, Sam.”  Cas’ eyes glowed blue now.

       “If he has all of the information – the correct information, not half-truths and lies – he can make the right choices.”  Sam’s voice didn’t falter.

       “You didn’t,” Cas spat.  Then he disappeared.

       Well, he didn’t so much disappear.  He just shrank, down to a very small size, small enough that Dean thought he’d disappeared at first.  The hunter raced forward and picked up what now appeared to be an army man that looked a lot like Castiel.  It even had an amazingly detailed angry look on his face.  “Jesse –“ Sam began.

       “He was going to kill you,” the boy objected, eyes the size of saucers.  His jaw stuck out in a stubborn look that Dean remembered from raising Sammy, though.  “Right before he killed me.  He hates us, Sam.”

       Sam sighed, sitting down on the ground.  “It’s complicated, Jesse.  I did some things, some things that weren’t great choices.”

       “Pretty goddamn awful choices,” Dean objected.  He’d gotten his gun out at some point.  He didn’t remember pulling it, and that was bad.  When had he gotten to a point that he just pulled on his brother without even thinking about it?

       The presence of the gun didn’t stop Blondie from slapping him across the face.  Hard.   Pain blossomed in his jaw and he might have gotten a split lip from the blow.  “Were your ears stuffed with wool when he was talking about having the right information, all of the information instead of half-truths and lies, jackass?” she demanded.

       Dean had never felt such hate coming from a woman, and that included the time he’d had to ditch Tina Levesque literally right in the middle of things to go to his dad.  “You have no right, sister,” he told her in as good of a warning tone as he could manage.  “You don’t know us, you don’t know our history.  If we hid things from Sammy it was for his own protection.”

       Sam offered a bitter little chuckle.  “And look how well that turned out.”

       “If you had just listened and done what you were freaking told –“

       “We’d still be right where we are.  Being a good little mindless little robot wouldn’t have helped.  Letting me stay dead – that would have helped.”  His eyebrows rose for a second and stayed there, like he had something to add, but they fell again as he turned away.

       Dean lashed out, punching his brother in the face before he could have stopped himself if he’d wanted to.  “Don’t you even say that.”

He had a lot more that he wanted to say, but he found himself cut off and paralyzed as the kid glared daggers at him.  “Your brother scares me, Sam,” he told the taller antichrist.

Sam offered him a small smile.  “Yeah.  I know.”  He looked back at Dean.  “You can’t honestly say that you haven’t regretted your deal since the moment you found out about Mom’s deal.  About the blood in me.  About what I am.”  He shook his head.  “I think you regretted it before that.  And that’s okay, Dean.  I did too.  We’d have both been happier if you’d just left me dead.  Gave me a hunter’s funeral and let me be.  Better for me, better for you, better for the world.  But it’s too late now.”  Dean struggled against his invisible bonds.  He wasn’t sure what he wanted more - to lash out and shut his brother up, for spilling out this bizarre, twisted version of their lives, or to just throw his arms around him and hold Sam’s face in his shoulder until he stopped talking.  Either way, all of this self-destructive, self-hating crap spewing from his mouth had to stop.  Unfortunately the little antichrist had frozen him so completely that he could do nothing but sit there and hear more.  “So.  Anyway.  I’m not letting you hurt Jesse.  I know you don’t want to see me, and I’ve been respectful of that.  I will say that I’m glad to see you.  Glad to see you’re keeping safe, keeping healthy.  Cas makes a good partner for you.  You guys make a great team.”  Sam gave a wistful little smile.  “I’m glad you’re happy.”  He turned to Jesse.  “Can you put them in the big black car outside?”

The next thing Dean knew he was in the front seat of the Impala, still motionless.  Castiel, still in miniature form, was in the seat beside him.  Apparently Jesse was still bitter about the whole attempted smiting thing because he’d deposited the Army Cas upside-down in the seat.

Movement didn’t return for several hours.  Sam and Blondie left after about twenty minutes, alone.  Sam stopped by the Impala long enough to tap on the window to say goodbye.  There were tears, actual tears, in the kid’s eyes.  There were no tears in Blondie’s.  After that there was nothing for Dean to do but sit there and think about all the different ways that had gone wrong.  He hadn’t taken down the cambion.  He hadn’t brought his brother back, not that he’d expected to see Sam there at all.  And, while he’d been granted the opportunity to see Sam, the whole encounter had been a disaster from the start.  He’d gotten angry at Sam again, he’d hit Sam which definitely hadn’t been on his list of “ways to bring Sam back into the fold,” and now he’d had to hear that Sam didn’t even think Dean loved him.  

Sam hadn’t appreciated Dean’s sacrifice, and that still pissed him off.  Maybe Dean had been moved by Sam’s exceptional display of self-loathing, but he still expected Sam to show some gratitude.   He’d gone to Hell for the kid.  Well, not really.  He’d gone to Hell because he couldn’t face life without the kid looking up to him, except that had been exactly what he’d gotten even before he’d died.  And then he’d found out that Sam hadn’t even been human, and he was still trying to process that when the whole thing with the addiction and then Lucifer and then the whole vessel thing –

The point was that he’d never had a chance to sit down and deal with Sam, just the idea of who and what Sam was now.  And he wasn’t going to get it.  He’d been muted and paralyzed before he could tell Sam that he didn’t regret going to Hell, that he never wanted to hear anything coming out of that kid’s mouth again that sounded like he wanted to die.  Never got to tell him that he’d tried to reach out to him, to get back together with him, but his phone was out of order.  Never got to tell him that Cas couldn’t hold a candle to him as a hunter, as a partner, as a brother.

Cas was returned to his normal size and faculties at about the same time that Dean regained the use of his body.  “Your brother is on Hell’s side, Dean,” the angel told him.

“Shut up, Cas,” the hunter snapped.  

 


	4. I Know Perhaps My Heart Is A Farce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam demonstrates that he knows when to hold 'em, knows when to fold 'em. Gabriel re-enancts a Johnny Cash classic.

Sam and Lindsey made it back to the motel fairly quickly after Gabriel vacated, but the archangel didn’t want to stick around.  He wasn’t even remotely comfortable with the idea of being anywhere near Castiel.  The angel was falling, his grace fading faster than the vapor trail behind an airplane, but he could still create problems for Gabriel and that was the last thing that any of them needed.  He didn’t give them time to debrief, simply grabbed their arms and moved them back to the New Hampshire cabin by way of Jakarta and Kismayo.  They didn’t spend any time in either place, but Gabriel hadn’t managed to stay away from the family this long by getting complacent.   This wasn’t the time for reunions.

       Only when they were safely back in maple sugar country, on his carefully protected and warded land and in his warm and safe cabin, did anyone speak.  “So that was Dean,” Lindsey observed through narrowed eyes.  “I have to say he wasn’t quite what I expected.”

       Sam shrugged and sat on the couch.  Gabriel winced.  The kid had a huge bruise on the side of his face.  “I guess the reunion wasn’t sunshine and rainbows.”

       “Dean punched him in the face when Sam told him that raising him from the dead wasn’t a good idea,” the blonde snapped.  “Jesse paralyzed him after that.”

       Gabriel laughed.  “Seriously?  I like that kid.”  He couldn’t miss the way Sam flinched, but why should he?  His brother had obviously decked him; he should be happy that someone had defended him.  It happened rarely enough.

       “Oh yeah.  He’s lucky the poor kid didn’t do more – he turned the angel into an action figure.”  She shook her head.  “I have to say, I expected more from an angel than… that.  What a dick.  He was going to… to just smite Jesse!  And Sam!”  She smacked her hand against the wall.  “And Dean – Dean was just going to let him!”

       Gabriel sighed.  “Angels are… well, they kind of suck,” he admitted, mouth dry.  He was, after all, talking about his own species, technically.  And if he showed too much knowledge that he couldn’t explain away, they’d figure him out faster than the ending to The Sixth Sense.  “They don’t really respect other beings.  They were ordered to love humanity, to love humans and protect them, but I don’t think that any of them really do.  They’ve all got a little bit of Lucifer in them.” He grinned, more of a grimace than anything else.  Maybe a rictus.   “He is an angel after all.  But Castiel’s the one who let Sam out of detox so he could go kill Lilith.  He knew what was going to happen – he’s never been a friend to you, Sam.”

       Sam shrugged, eyes on the ground.

       Gabriel looked back at Lindsey.  Apparently Sam was going to be furniture for a little while, and he guessed he understood that.  It wasn’t like he didn’t have experience with hostile siblings.  “So I guess we’re fighting a war on two fronts now?”

       “Three,” she corrected him.  “Heaven, Hell and now Dean and Castiel.  I really don’t like them.”

       An idea began forming in Gabriel’s head, but he didn’t decide to share it with the class.  After all, it wasn’t exactly something either Lindsey or Sam would get behind.  Instead, he spoke about Dean.  “You know, I met Michael a time or two.  He and Dean – they’re well matched.  They really don’t like it when their subordinates step out of line.”

       “Sam’s not a subordinate!” Lindsey shot back.  “He’s his own person!”  She stepped over to the couch and sat down beside the abomination, putting a protective arm around his shoulders.  Gabriel wasn’t entirely sure if Sam noticed.

       “I know that,” he told her gently, coming around the back of the couch and putting his hands on Sam’s shoulders.  “You know that.  The problem is that Dean doesn’t know that.  Sometimes I’m not entirely sure that Sam knows that either.”  Sam didn’t even twitch.  Had the kid just taken leave of his body?  “All I’m saying is that Dean has a certain worldview and he doesn’t like to have it challenged.  So.  I’m pretty sure that we can take Dean-o out if we have to.”

       “No!” Sam objected, eyes coming to life for the first time.   Well, at least he was alive in there.      

       “Sam, I’m not going to let him just kill you!” Lindsey insisted, a hand on his leg so she could fully face him.  “That’s not okay!”

       He shrugged.  “Not like I can die anyway,” he muttered.  “Not permanently.”

       “Well that was chilling,” Gabriel acknowledged with a snort.  “Accurate, but chilling.  Lindsey’s right, though.  We can’t exactly fight if we’ve got to dodge The Self-Righteous Man and Angelpants there.  Out of deference to your delicate sensibilities, I’m more than happy to drop Big Brother there into an alternate reality where he’ll be safely – and I do mean safely – contained.  But I’m not going to let you be distracted by him running around trying to drag you back under his yoke or worse.”

       “Loki,” Sam ground out, leaning a little into Lindsey’s touch, “you can’t do that.  He’s the one who can stop the Apocalypse, remember?”

       “Besides, I thought you couldn’t drop an angel into an alternate reality,” Lindsey accused, eyes narrowed.

       Gabriel cursed himself.  “I said I couldn’t drop Lucifer into an alternate reality.  Castiel is a different story.  Castiel is the size of a very large apartment building and he’s shrinking rapidly.  Lucifer is the size of a galaxy, several galaxies.  There’s no real comparison.  And kid – you weren’t supposed to be able to figure out how to track me down, either.  Back in Broward County, I mean.  But you did.  You weren’t supposed to find a way to save your brother, that time in Nebraska.  But you did.  I still don’t think anyone can derail this whole one-way trip to destructo-town.  If anyone can, though – you’re just as capable of doing it as he is.  Maybe more, I don’t know.”  He made a face.  “Did I just say that?  Ugh.  I feel all clean and supportive.  I need to go prank some dick somewhere.”

       Lindsey laughed a little, meeting his eyes and smiling a special smile that definitely distracted the fugitive from his near brush with his kin.  “See, Sam?  You’re so awesome you got even Loki to say something nice.”

       Sam offered a weak, watery smile and indicated that he was tired – no wonder, given that an angel tried to smite him while he bonded with a younger antichrist and his brother punched him in the face.  Gabriel and Lindsey left him to his couch and went to their own rooms.

       Not, of course, that Gabriel spent much time sleeping.  He had a plan.  It was going to take time and effort to put it into action, but he had a plan.  He set up a tickler spell – just a little alarm, something to let him know if anyone came into his room or anything happened at all in the cabin – and prepared to snap out of New Hampshire.

       He aimed himself at Ohio.  Dean seemed to have a fondness for the place for reasons that escaped the trickster.  The village of Wellington suited his needs perfectly.  It was out-of-the-way enough to not attract hunters that he didn’t want showing up – although he supposed he could just let them run around in his trap for weeks or months or centuries, why not?  Hunters were dicks.  It was also close enough to Cleveland and to highways that what he had in mind should at least catch someone’s attention.  He found a suitable location and started setting things up, but kept an eye on the time.

       It had been a while since he’d gotten to set up a good, elaborate prank.  He’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get caught up in it, how absorbing the process was.  He was going to miss this when humanity disappeared.  Before he knew it the sun was rising; time to get back to New Hampshire.

       Sam was gone, off running he hoped.  Lindsey was still asleep, although she woke up not long after.  She’d taken to doing physical training herself in the weeks since they’d left Oklahoma, although her routine wasn’t nearly as draconian as Sam’s was.  There wasn’t anything nearly as penitential about it.  She went for her run and was back and showered before Sam returned, with time to speak with Gabriel.  “I thought gods didn’t need to sleep,” she commented, sipping from her coffee.

       “We don’t,” he admitted.  “Why?”

       “You didn’t notice Sam last night?”

       “I was out.”

       “Oh?”  She grinned impudently.  “Hot date?”

       “Something like that.  I am a trickster god, you know.  If I didn’t, you know, trick sometimes, they’d probably kick me out of the club.  Make me go become a god of love or something instead of the sex god that I truly am.”  He wiggled her eyebrows at her.  “What’s got you worked up about Samsquatch?  Besides the usual, I mean.”

       “He was having nightmares,” she sighed.  “Bad ones, Loki.”

       “I won’t pretend to be surprised.  His life’s been the stuff of nightmares.”  He shrugged.  “His mother sold him to a demon, Lindsey.  It didn’t exactly get better from there.  He opened Lucifer’s Cage.”  He grabbed another almond croissant.

       “Hey, I thought you said that wasn’t his fault!” she frowned, going for some yogurt.

       “It isn’t.  Not really.  He still did it.  It’s eating away at him.  Of course it is.  Anyway, he’s never slept well.  I’ve had my eye on him for a very long time and trust me, there’s never been a time when this kid hasn’t had nightmares.”

       “Yeah, okay.  But he doesn’t usually talk in his sleep, right?”

       Gabriel wrinkled his nose.  He did not want to get involved with Sam, no more than he already was.  He didn’t need to get attached to his brother’s vessel.  “No,” he had to admit.  “What was he saying?”

       “’No,’” she quoted.  “And, ‘I won’t.  You can’t make me.’  He sounded awful.  Like someone was hurting him.”

       “Huh.”  Gabriel rubbed his chin.  “I mean, maybe he’s just dreaming about Lilith.  Or his incident with Tim and Reggie – that sounded pretty gruesome.”

       “Or maybe someone’s pressuring him to give in,” she insisted, leaning forward.  “You don’t think the Devil found him –“

       Gabriel held up a hand, hearing birds fall quiet.  Sam was approaching.  He didn’t mind shutting down the discussion of his brother as “the Devil” either.  “He’s coming,” he whispered.  “He wasn’t always ‘the Devil,’ you know,” he explained in a more normal tone.  “I knew him before the Fall.  He was actually a pretty good angel – if there are good angels.  He loved beautiful things – he was a good guardian of his Father’s creation, appreciated every animal, every plant.  He had the best sense of humor.”

       “You were friends,” the beauty realized as Sam walked into the cabin.

       “We were.  I learned a lot from him, way back when.  It was hard to see him cast down.”  He felt the lump in his throat.

       “I’m sorry,” Sam murmured, squatting down by his duffel to grab some clothes.  “He’s not like that anymore.”

       Gabriel folded his lips together.  Of course Lucifer wasn’t like that with Sam – Sam was human, or part human anyway.  Still he should have been gentle with the guy – he’d released him from captivity, after all.  “Are you still speaking with him?  I thought angels couldn’t find you – I mean you’re warded and hidden sixteen ways from Sunday.”

       He shrugged.  “I’m his True Vessel.  He finds my dreams.”  He stalked off to the shower, still not meeting anyone’s eyes.

       The remaining pair were silent until they heard the water running.  Gabriel left the remaining portion of his croissant on his plate, appetite destroyed.  “I guess now we know what he was dreaming about,” Lindsey grimaced.

       “Great,” the angel sighed.  “We’re going to need to figure out what to do about this.  I mean, we can’t have him getting hassled every time he closes his eyes.  What if Lucifer figures out where we are that way?  You’ll be demon chow in no time.”  The blonde had gotten an anti-possession tattoo soon after joining up, while they’d been in Oregon, but that only kept her safe from one kind of attack.  Of course, Gabriel didn’t mention his deeper fear – that Lucifer would sense Gabriel’s true identity through Sam.

       Sam didn’t speak when he got out of his shower, just grabbed a cup of coffee and started working on his laptop.  That set a standard for the next few weeks.  He didn’t initiate conversations, and used as few words as possible when replying to others.  He trained, and he helped Lindsey with her training.  His training was coming along well, too – Gabriel tried to praise him, but it was like praising an exceptionally morose stone wall.  He ate almost nothing, and he tried to put off sleep as often as he could.

       Lindsey and Gabriel watched, but they seemed to be able to do nothing to help.  Sam’s malaise was understandable, but it only served to remind the archangel why the kid’s cause was hopeless.  Watching Sam was like watching a kid get hollowed out.  Lucifer was scooping out his insides while Sam’s supporters could only stand there, helpless.  There was no way that anyone could hold up against that, no possible way.   He focused on the game he wanted to play with Dean and Castiel instead, creating an entire world inside an old warehouse.  At least that was something he could take action on.

       Lindsey struggled to learn to hold her own.  Gabriel fashioned an angel blade, or something that was the appropriate size and weight for an angel blade anyway.  He had one to give her when the time was right, he’d taken it back when Uriel was turning traitor because hey, you never knew, maybe Kali would find it useful someday, but he wasn’t about to hand it over to someone just learning.  It couldn’t kill him, but it could hurt.  She learned quickly, and neither man had any trouble admitting that she was a force to be reckoned with.

       “What about the other gods?” Lindsey asked him one day over breakfast.  She glanced at Sam, who looked up from his coffee but said nothing.

       “Well Baldur’s an ass but they’re mostly reasonable people,” Gabriel blinked at the non-sequitur.  “What, you looking to compare and contrast?  This isn’t a comparative religion class, it’s the Apocalypse.”

       She made a face at him as Sam looked back at his coffee.  “No, Mr. Charming.  I mean, what’s their take on this whole end of the world thing?  I’d think that they’d be kind of against it, being part of the world and all.”

       He ran his tongue against the inside of his cheek.  “What are you asking?”

       “Well, can’t you… maybe… bring them into this?  I mean, wouldn’t they want to fight the Apocalypse with us?” she asked, both hands around her mug and eyes right on Gabriel.  “They can’t be willing to just stand by and watch the world die.”

       He sighed.  “The thing is, Lindsey, the pagans aren’t really into tangling with the whole Abrahamic… thing.”

       She glanced at Sam, who moved the corners of his mouth in an apologetic half-smile before contemplating his coffee some more.  “The whole Abrahamic thing.”

       “They call the Abrahamic God ‘the usurping God,’ and they’re not wrong.  They lost a lot of their prestige and their power in their homelands – some of their homelands,” he added quickly, “when Abrahamic religions came into their areas.  So they really don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to the angels and the demons.  They mostly consider themselves outside of that whole mess and that’s good.”

       “But they’ll die anyway!” she objected.

       “They’ll die if they confront Lucifer,” he shrugged, tossing his pastry onto his plate with enough force to rattle the place settings.  The mortals glanced at each other, but said nothing.  “Those people are my family, Lindsey.  I love them.  Most of them.  Not Baldur.  I have exactly zero desire to see I Love Luci mopping the floor with my friends and former lovers.  I don’t mind risking myself.  You want me to risk them?  That’s something else.”  Sam nodded, hands on his cup.

       Lindsey sighed.  “Yeah, okay.  Not in a direct confrontation.  I’m just trying to think of options.”

       “Think away, oh blonde bombshell.”  He gestured with an exaggerated flourish.  “Maybe between the three of us we’ll come up with something that works.  I mean I still think that getting it over with fast is the best way to go, but like I said – if anyone can find a way to weasel out from under this one, it’s Sam.”

       Sam just flinched and went back to his laptop.

       It was the laptop that provided the first real break in the routine.  Sam used it every day, not that it seemed to bring him much pleasure.  Sometimes it turned him pale, sometimes it inspired him to go “run it out,” sometimes it made him stay up late into the night typing away.  It wasn’t like the kid was sleeping much, so Gabriel didn’t think he was losing much, but still.  One morning he sat down and checked his messages and frowned, eyebrows knitting together like a sweater.  He typed a bit, then typed some more.  After a little bit more typing, a woman’s voice crackled to life through the speakers.

       “Sam, honey, thank you for calling me.  I know you’re trying to lie low.”

       Gabriel frowned.  The woman sounded a little older, and she sounded genuinely affectionate and concerned for Sam.  She sounded almost… maternal?

       Sam let himself smile a little as he responded.  “Aw, Ellen.  I’ll always call you if you send a message like that – you know, if I’m able.  You’ve done so much for me!  What’s wrong?”

       “Well, it’s Bobby.  Bobby and Dean.”  She sighed.  “Bobby went off on some kind of a fool’s errand, chasing some witch or something.  I guess he was playing poker for years on people’s lives or something, or poker to make people younger or something – I’m not quite sure I understand it, I’m here going through Bobby’s notes right now and he never was good about leaving them in a way that someone could make sense out of ‘em.”

       “Bobby Singer, Paranoid Bastard,” Sam quipped, and they both laughed.  “I mean, it sounds like something I’ve heard about before, just rumors, legends, you know?  A traveling gambler comes to town and if you beat him, you get your best years back.  Not that anyone really ever wins.”  He snorted.

       “Ain’t no casino makes money if the house loses, boy,” Ellen reminded him almost absently.  Sam’s fingers were already running over the keyboard.  “Anyway, Bobby called Dean to go help him out, and then he called me.”

       Sam sighed.  “Okay.  How long ago was this?”

       “Yesterday.”

       “Alright.”

       There was silence.  Gabriel and Lindsey glanced at each other.  “Sam?” Ellen prompted.

       “Yeah.   I’m here.  I’m just thinking.”

       “Sam, I know you two have had some differences of opinion lately but he’s your brother.  There’s no one else who can help him now.”

       “Not even Cas?”  The words came out with a bitter, nasty twist to Sam’s mouth that Gabriel hadn’t ever seen there before, not even during the Robo-Sam era.  “I figure an angel would probably be the best bet to help both of them.  Me, I’m just the screw-up junkie that started the end of the world.  And, uh, Cas kind of wants to kill me.  I want to help him, Ellen.  I do.  It’s kind of hard to help Dean out if your eyes are burned out, you know?”

       “Oh, honey.”  The sympathy in Ellen’s voice threatened to break Gabriel’s heart and he didn’t have one.  He thought Lindsey was going to burst into tears.  “I don’t know where Cas is right now but he ain’t with those two.  Looking for God, or something like that.”  Gabriel couldn’t help but snort at that.  “You ain’t got nothing to worry about on that end.”

       “Okay.  I know where Dean is, assuming he didn’t dump his phones in a park somewhere.  I’ll go.  Thanks, Ellen.”

       “Sam?”

       “Yeah, Ellen?”

       “When you’re done saving your brother, you come right back here and stop in for a visit.  I need to see you with my own two eyes.  Last time I saw you things were…”

       “Ellen, it’s okay.”

       “No.  It isn’t.  You just come see me, okay?”

       “Okay, Ellen.”  He smiled softly.  “I’ll let you know when it’s done.”  He ended the call.

       “What are you thinking, Sam?” Lindsey demanded, rushing over to stand in his personal space as he shut down his laptop.  “Dean was going to just let an angel smite you!  He punched you in the face!”

       Sam paused.  “Yeah.  Yeah, he did.  And I’m not going to let him do it again, okay?  But he’s my brother.  I have to save him.  It’s my job.  And it’s not just him, it’s Bobby too.  He’s always taken us in – I mean, he’s paralyzed because he tried to help us.  I’ve got to do what I can.”

       Gabriel shook his head.  “How can you be this… good, Sam?  I mean, why bother?”

       He shrugged.  “Even the damned can do something right sometimes, I guess.  Anyway, you mind giving me a lift?  I’ll make my own way back.”

       Both the angel and the human rolled their eyes.  “We’re going with you, dumbass,” Lindsey told him, giving his shoulder a gentle shove.  “We’re all in this together.  We’re not sending you into that alone.”

       “You don’t have to,” he demurred.  “I mean, it’s Dean, and Bobby.  Loki, you remember them.”

       “Fun times,” he smiled fondly.  “Remember Swamp Thing?  With the chainsaw and everything?”

       “Uh, yeah.  That was me you were chasing.  With the chainsaw.”

       Well, at least it was words.  Even a bitchface.  “Like I said, good times.  Dean’s the one who froze your computer, though.  I hid it, Dean’s the one who was looking at porn on it.”

       “Oh I know.”  He made a face that was somewhere between grim and disgusted.

       “Look.  Lindsey’s right.  We’re all going together.  It’s about time we closed up this place anyway and moved on; New Hampshire’s going to get mighty cold soon enough.  You probably want to get a move on, though.”  He snapped his fingers and the trio moved on to a small Midwestern town, the name of which Gabriel never did bother to find out.  He just focused on Bobby Singer’s aura and moved them there.

       Both Bobby and Dean had aged, aged tremendously.  The both clutched at their chests when three people appeared in their seedy little motel room.  Gabriel couldn’t help it.  He fell down on the floor, clutching his stomach he was laughing so hard.  He hated stealing from other people’s playbooks but this- this trick was one he was going to want to keep.  “I don’t see what’s so funny,” Dean rasped.  He glared.  “That was the Trickster!  And your super-violent new girlfriend!  Even Ruby wasn’t –“

       “Dean, this is Lindsey.  Lindsey, this is my brother Dean.  Dean, Lindsey worked with me at a bar in Oklahoma.  She’s here for her own safety.”  Sam cut through Dean’s complaints in a voice that Gabriel recognized from the Dean-less Sam in Broward County, the one who had tracked him down.  “Loki is helping to keep Lindsey safe.”

       Bobby Singer, slumped and spotted in his wheelchair, cleared his throat.  “That’s… mighty sweet of him, Sam.  You want to share what you’re doing here?”

       “He got a message from someone named Ellen saying that you needed help,” Lindsey supplemented when Sam didn’t speak.  “Something about a witch?”

       Dean snorted.  “We don’t need his kind of help, thanks.”

       Gabriel rolled his eyes.  “Okay, ace.  Thanks for your scintillating contribution.  You may be willing to just drop dead from being old as dirt but I have it on very good authority that you’ve got a pretty important part to play in a big game coming up.  So you just sit back and relax, maybe soak your feet in some Epsom salts or something, and let those of us who haven’t reached retirement age do the heavy lifting for a bit, okay gramps?”

       Dean tried to growl.  It came out more like a wheeze.  “I’ve got a stake somewhere around here.”

       “Oh please.  Like you haven’t already tried that.  Besides, what are you going to do with it, poke me with it?  Come on.  Get real.  Samkins, the witch is over at the Fairmont Hotel.  Top floor.  Just go… do your thing or whatever and fix this, alright?”

       Sam quirked half a grin and left.  Dean looked at Bobby, then back at the Trickster.  “Aren’t you going to go with him?” the latter demanded.

       “No, I’m going to make sure that neither of you chuckleheads keels over on us.  That would get pretty awkward, not to mention devastate poor Sam which I find oddly unpleasant.”  He created two lollipops and handed one to Lindsey.  “I’d offer some to you but you both need to mind your blood sugar.”

       Bobby gave him a look of pure spite.  “Here’s the thing.  Sam’s going to wind up in exactly the same spot we are, genius.  He’s going to lose.  Everyone loses.  That’s how this guy does his thing.”

       “Sam’ll be fine.”  Gabriel waved a hand.

       Dean made a face and repeated his words in a high-pitched voice.  “’Sam’ll be fine.’  See, this is why I freaking hate it when people sit there and pretend like they know him.  Oh, look at me, I’m going to come in here and tell Dean how to manage Sam!  I’ve known him for twenty-four years, jackass.  Sam can’t play poker for shit.”

       Lindsey’s lip curled.  “You don’t even like your brother, do you?”

       “You really need to keep your mouth shut,” Dean retorted with a baleful glare.

       “What are you going to do, spill your Ben-Gay on me?”

       Gabriel high-fived her over that one.  “You don’t know him as well as you think, Deanie-weenie,” he smirked.  “How do you think Sam got by at Stanford?”

       “Sam had a full ride,” Bobby frowned.

       “Sam went to Stanford?” Lindsey shook her head.

       “A full ride covered books and tuition.  Not living expenses,” he explained.  “I think his first year in the dorms was covered, but dorm living isn’t exactly a great place for a teenaged psychic who’s been raised to be paranoid to boot.  Poker, gentlemen.  He doesn’t need me influencing the game, or influencing the witch.  He needs me to babysit your sorry asses.”

       “He always lost to us,” Dean objected.  “Every single time.”

       Lindsey snorted.  “It’s called a hustle.”

       They lapsed into silence for about an hour before Gabriel felt it – the rush of magic, accompanied by the weight of years.  One moment he was looking at two geriatric patients, the next he was looking at the regular-age Dean and Bobby.

       Sam didn’t return.  “Sam looks like shit,” Dean finally blurted.

       “Yeah, well, he’s got Satan pestering him to wear him like a suit,” Lindsey pointed out.  Apparently the silence had not caused her acid tongue to mellow.  “His brother disowned him and was right on board with an angel smiting him.  He’s lost a little sleep.”

       “Lady, he started the Apocalypse.  He deserves to lose a little sleep.”  He sighed.  “And that ain’t how it went down.”

       “Did you forget that I was there, asshole?” she glared.

       “You were there for some of it,” he acknowledged.  “And I talked to Cas about that.  But the other stuff –“

       “Did you disown your brother?” Bobby asked Dean in a terrible voice.

       “No, I mean I might have said –“

       “To pick a hemisphere,” Gabriel filled in.

       “Christ, no wonder the kid ain’t taking any calls.”  Bobby shook his head.  “I thought you were a better man than your daddy, Dean.”

       “Look, you don’t know –“

       “I know he’s your brother.  I know what he’d do for you,” Gabriel pointed out.  “I’ve seen it.  You haven’t, and you won’t.  Anyway.  Lindsey, these guys are going to make it.  Come on, let’s try and find Sam.”

       They left the two hunters in the hotel room.  Gabriel would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of that look from Bobby.  He was looking forward to having Dean in his trap.

 

*

 

       Dean sagged against the wall.  His entire body burned with pain, but it was a low-grade pain; bruises and aches, the occasional cut or scrape.  Forty years in Hell had taught him plenty about pain.  It wasn’t going to stop him from flicking a match to ignite the oil, that was for damn sure.  “Maybe you’ve always been an angel,” he growled.  He wasn’t sure what made him angrier – getting trapped in the winged dick’s little TV-Land alternate reality or the fact that the bastard had somehow gotten his talons into Sammy.

       Of course, Dean wasn’t often sure what was making him angrier these days.  There were so many options to choose from.

       The Trickster’s eyes darted over to where Sam and his little girly-girl stood, close together but distinctly not touching.  Damn it, that was his place, right in front of Sammy but not touching, defending the dumb kid.  Not some bimbo who didn’t know her ass from her elbow, who probably couldn’t shoot her way out of a paper sack.  “That’s ridiculous,” the monster spat out.

       “If it’s so ridiculous then step outside the holy fire circle, you smarmy dick,” the hunter retorted.  “Tell him, Cas.”

       “It does seem unlikely that a mere pagan god would be harmed by holy fire,” Cas confirmed.  “I cannot identify his Grace, however.  It is heavily cloaked.  Who are you, brother?”

       “You tried to smite Sam,” Lindsey shot out.  “You don’t get to call him brother!”  She had a short sword in her hand, one like the angels carried.

       Dean turned to face her.  “Lady, this asshole has been lying to both you and Sam for… for however long you’ve been together.  He’s just another angel.  You don’t even know his real name and all he wants – all he’s ever wanted – is for Sam to spread ‘em for big brother.  What part of that don’t you get?  How are you defending him?  How are you not outraged?”

       “We know,” Sam told him, shaking his head sadly.  “I mean, no.  We don’t know which particular angel he is.  But he never made any secret of his goal.  That night when he came to find me, it was to deliver me to Lucifer and get the whole thing moving.”  He took a deep breath, and was it Dean’s imagination or did that breath have an element of shuddering to it?  “He’s never made any secret of that.  But he’s also helped us, worked with us.  He helped us when you gambled your youth away.  He helped us with Jesse –“

       “You mean the half demon freak?” Dean interrupted.  “Yeah, bang-up job there.  The thing got away!”

       “He’s a little boy, not a thing,” Sam roared, and holy crap Dean hadn’t seen that kind of an emotional response out of Sam since… well, since the hotel fight really.  But this wasn’t a Sam all hopped up on bitch blood, no.  This was a Sam who was holding his ground.  “He’s no different than I am.”  His brother got himself under control quickly.  “I didn’t know he was going to trap you in something like this, and I’d have asked him not to.  But the only thing he hasn’t been truthful about was his species.”

       “And to be honest,” Lindsey said, turning to give the angel a half-smile, “we were like ninety percent sure anyway.  We just didn’t want to do any of the tests that would have told us one way or the other.”

       Cas, Dean and the random angel gaped.  “Wait, what?” Dean objected.  “You were pretty sure he was an angel and you just decided to what, sit on it?”

       “Pretty much.  If he was hiding out from other angels he must have had a good reason,” Sam shrugged.

       “It’s not like the angel I met seems like a good representative of the species,” Lindsey threw out.  “I’d do anything I could to get away too.  Hey – one more move toward Sam and I will stab you in your face.”

       Sam looked at Dean.  Dean looked at Sam.  Castiel looked at Lindsey.  “You should not speak of matters you do not understand.  The boy is Hell’s most potent weapon and you allowed him to escape,” he seethed.

       Random Angel rolled his eyes and gestured, and even though Castiel continued to move his mouth he fell silent.  “That’s better.  The kid understands what’s at stake.  He’ll do what’s right.  As for me.”  He turned to Sam and Lindsey.  “They call me Gabriel.”

       The pair glanced at each other.  “As in…” Sam prompted, moistening his lips.

       “The messenger.  Yeah.  That’s me.”

       “Alright, Sammy.  Come on.  Time to go.  I want you where I can see you, man.”  He moved forward and grabbed Sam by the arm, trying to drag him toward the exit.

       Sam shook him off.  “No, Dean.”

       “Sam, what the Hell?  You’re seriously thinking of staying with this angelic douchebag who’s lied to you and wants you to just roll over for Lucifer?”  Dean could feel his pulse right behind his eyes, hot and fast.

       “He wants to get it over with.  I can’t say as I blame him.  But I’m not the only one with an angelic… companion who’s had a very casual relationship with the truth.”  He smiled grimly.  “Why don’t you ask him who let me out of the panic room, Dean?”

       “This is just like Ruby all over again,” Dean promised.  “Cas is one of the good guys!”  He glanced at Cas, who couldn’t speak on his own behalf, but the angel just looked at the ground.

       “I love you, Dean.  You’re my brother.  But I’m not going to go back to the way things were.”  He grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and put out some of the flames.  Without even a flutter of wings, the three of them were gone.

       Castiel could speak again.  “Gabriel is alive,” he observed.  “He was… the host all believed him to have died after the last revelations.”  He shook his head.  “It seems that he is very much in your brother’s thrall.”

       “Jesus, Cas.  If that was the case do you really think he’d be urging Sam to let Lucifer in?”  Dean shook his head.  “Something else is going on here, I just don’t know what it is.”

       “Why else would Sam refuse to submit to you?” Cas insisted.  “He should be overcome with remorse and obedient.  Instead he is obdurate and clings to his error.  He allowed the cambion to flee.”

       “You tried to kill him,” Dean pointed out.  “I can see where that’s giving him some trust issues.”  He sighed.  “It’s been a long day.  Let’s just… let’s just find someplace to go rest, maybe head out to Bobby’s.  I miss my brother.”

       Castiel was quiet for a moment.  “As do I.”

 


	5. I'll Be Born Without A Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend gives Gabriel a creative solution to Sam's communication difficulties with Lucifer. Dean, Jo and Castiel meet a sleazy salesman.

They got back to the house outside of Lancaster in no time at all.  “I won’t stop you,” Gabriel told them.  He still had the smell of the holy fire in his nose, in his lungs.  “I understand what you must be feeling.”

       “I don’t know that you do,” Lindsey told him, sitting down gingerly on one of the benches.  This place wasn’t any less rustic than the cabin in New Hampshire; it was just a different kind of rustic, and Lindsey hadn’t quite gotten used to it yet.  “Not if you’re expecting us to cut and run.”

       Sam nodded.  “I mean, I guess it would’ve been good to know for sure that you were an angel.  But it doesn’t really make a difference.  You still helped us.  Are helping us.  Whatever.  And me – oh God, it must be even more disgusting for you to be around me than I thought it was.”  He turned a vaguely greenish color and fled outside.

       The angel sat down at the table, his head in his hands.  “I’m sorry, Lindsey.”

       “Why?  I wasn’t saying any of what I said back in that warehouse for Dean’s benefit, you know.  You’re a good guy.”  She edged closer to him, until they were touching.  “I mean, you’re an angel but you’re a good guy.  Which of you is more typical?”

       “Me or Flasher Guy there?”  He snorted as Sam came back into the small house.  “I mean, we’re both rebels I guess.  But he’s still got this idea about …”  He stopped himself.  “Castiel is more typical.  There is nothing typical about an archangel.  Mikey’s… well, he’s Dean without the sex and booze.  He’s all duty and devotion to Daddy above common sense and beyond what even our father demanded.  I mean, he’s never questioned anything a day in his life.  There’s no love in him, though, even though our Father commanded us to love his newest creation.

       “Raphael, he’s… well, he’s always idolized Michael.  Wants to be Michael’s favorite and it works.  He’s supposed to be a healer, right?  Dad set him up as the one to be Heaven’s physician, in charge of healing wounded and sick angels.  What do you think he does with it?”

       Sam cringed.  “Anna mentioned something about prisons.”

       “Got it in one.”  He sighed, rubbing at his face.

       “But he’s a healer, like a doctor, right?” Lindsey objected.

       “So was Mengele,” Gabriel reminded.  “Anyway.  Lucifer was… well.  We’ve talked about him.  And the whole choir is… well, disobedience gets you death or worse, and angels don’t get an afterlife.”

       “Anna cut out her Grace,” Sam recalled.  “They got her back anyway.  She’s in prison up there.”

       “I wish I could say there was help for her.”  He lay his head on Lindsey’s shoulder.  “Look.  I’m the world’s biggest coward.  They fought, all the time.  I was… I was close with Lucifer.  I know he’s not showing you his best side, Sam, but he’s good.  There is love in him, I swear to you.”

       Sam looked away.  “Okay.”

       “So you’ll say yes?”

       “No.  But I believe that he showed you love.  That he’s capable of loving someone.”  He gave half a smile.  “Would it help to think of this as trying to find a way to stop your brothers from hurting each other at all?”

       It didn’t, but only because it was hopeless.  “He used to do that too, you know.  Try to find a way to make me feel better about the fighting.  And this, this was when Dad was still with us.  Now imagine how bad it was when Dad left.”  He shuddered, and Lindsey wrapped her arms around him.  “He didn’t leave Michael in charge.  He didn’t leave anyone in charge.  But Michael, with that little sycophant Raphael right on his heels, he just took over.  And the other angels let him.

       “Lucifer was cast down into the Cage.  Yeah, Dad built the Cage, but as a failsafe.  I mean, He made Purgatory too.  Other angels followed him into Hell; they became demons.  Azazel was one of them; that might explain why some of your more exciting powers, Sam, work more like angelic abilities than like demonic ones.  Me, I took off.  Every once in a while Dad would show up and ask me to pass notes for him, and that was fine.  I mean sure, why not?  It’s Dad.  But somehow Mikey and Raffi, they never got the hint, you know?  So after the last time, that nice businessman from Mecca – I really liked him – Dad just… stopped coming by.  Stopped looking in, didn’t stop in for chats anymore.  I took off, went to Scandinavia.  I became Loki.”

       Sam shrugged.  “So you never even really lied.”

       Gabriel looked at him.  “What?”

       “You didn’t lie about being a Trickster god.  You became one.  I mean you left some stuff out, sure, but you weren’t pretending.  You are a god.  And an archangel.”  He grimaced.  “I’m not expressing that very well.”

       “You’re always a little inarticulate after one of these little family reunions.”  The angel waved a hand.  “It’s okay.  That I get.”

       Sam smiled wanly.  “I’m, um, I’m a little wiped after all that.  I just want to say that I’m not mad.  I’m really grateful for your help and I hope you’ll still help with things – I mean, all things considered.”  He smiled a little bit again and moved off toward his room, Gabriel having decided to give him a room this time, letting a hand brush across Gabriel’s shoulder very briefly by way of comfort on his way past.

       He felt the weight of the abomination’s hand, slight as it had been, long after he heard the door click behind him.

       Lindsey continued to hold him.  “You know, what he said goes for both of us,” she said finally.  “I really appreciate everything you’ve done.  And whether you’re an angel or a Norse god or just a guy who really likes sweets, I’m very glad that I met you.”

       “I’m kind of a dick,” Gabriel reminded her.  “I just trapped Sam’s brother and one of mine in an alternate reality consisting entirely of bad television.  I made him live out a terrible police procedural.  I made him wear sunglasses at night.”

       She laughed.  “Better than he deserved.”  A small hand reached up to stroke his face lightly.  “We’re both very lucky to have you.”

       “Because I’m useful.”  He didn’t bother raising his head.

       “You are useful.  So’s Sam.  And in case you hadn’t noticed I’m a damn fine shot.  You give us both something that we didn’t have without you, Gabriel.  Loki.  Whichever.  You give us peace.  You give us… you give us faith.”  She smiled gently.  “I mean, I showed up at that motel looking for Sam and I didn’t have any real faith that I’d find him there.  I went there looking for someone to take care of.”

       “You do take care of him,” he pointed out.  “You slapped Dean in the face for him.”

       “Someone had to.  But I was able to do that because you helped me to find the faith in myself, in us.  In the three of us.  And Sam, he’s holding on because you help him face his fears, his insecurities.  All of this – what we found out today?  We knew you were a runaway angel, Gabriel.  Didn’t know just how powerful you are.  But we knew.”

       “And you just…”

       “We trusted you to tell us when you felt the time was right.  Or, you know, when Sam’s asshole brother trapped you in a ring of holy fire.”  She chuckled a little and leaned in to kiss him.

       Lindsey was an excellent kisser.  Of course, she was human; she had to come up for air eventually.  “Lindsey,” he told her reluctantly.  “This isn’t… you want Gigantor.  Not me.”

       “You’re half right.  I do love Sam.  And so do you,” she added with a very knowing look.  “You don’t have to say anything; I can see the way you look at him.  I can see the way you behave toward him, even when you’re being an utter dick.  But… Sam isn’t ready for that.  From either of us.  Not now, and I don’t know if he ever will be.  That doesn’t change the fact that I’m attracted to you, and I’m pretty sure you’re attracted to me.”

       “You’re not even remotely phased by the whole bisexual thing, are you?  Or the polyamory thing?” he grinned, relaxing for the first time since being found out.

       “I’m coming onto a guy who’s both a god and an archangel.  No.  I don’t care that he’s also attracted to the same guy that I’m also attracted to,” she chuckled.  “I’m okay if you’re okay.”

       He considered.  He glanced at Sam’s closed door; he didn’t want to change the dynamic that they had or to hurt Sam.   The guy  was hurting more than enough.  At the same time, she was offering him a very effective if very human distraction from his problems at the moment.  “We should move this into the bedroom,” he suggested.

       They made love in her room, and if his playfulness was a little forced at first he soon threw himself fully into the act.  He’d always enjoyed sex, once he’d built a vessel for himself (none of this stolen-body business for him, not once he’d become a god anyway).  Nothing could compare to the closeness of Heaven before his Father had left, before Lucifer’s fall, but the intimacy of sex and of romance approximated some of what he was looking for.  He’d had one-night stands with nymphs.  He’d bunked down with the King of the Faeries for a while, that had been a good time until Titania had caught wind of it.  He’d spent a little time with Dionysus and his maenads, and who wouldn’t want that?  He’d been in a very pleasant long-term thing with Kali, and hadn’t that been a wonderful thing until she took up with Baldur, of all people.  They weren’t Heaven, they weren’t the Host, but they were magnificent in their own right and at the end of the day he wouldn’t trade it.  They’d chosen each other out of their own free will, after all.

       Lindsey, too, was magnificent.  She knew exactly what she wanted, both from herself and from Gabriel.  She was considerate both of her partner and of the fact that the walls weren’t terribly thick, and there was absolutely no shame in her.  Why should there be?  They were consenting adults, free to enjoy their bodies as they saw fit, and so they did.

       Of course eventually, being human, Lindsey was exhausted if sated.  Gabriel stayed in the bed with her; she probably wasn’t aware of it, but her body gave off a satisfied little hum inaudible to human ears when as she curled into him in her slumber.  It pleased him.  He’d never been able to heal his celestial family – it wouldn’t have been possible, given that bringing his favorite brother back into the fold would have started off the beginning of the end.  But he could still find comfort and, to some extent, belonging outside of Heaven.  It would be enough.

       In the next room, Sam struggled through his nightmares.  Without anything else to distract him, Gabriel found his attention absorbed by the young man’s dreams.  They ran in approximately twenty-minute cycles; no wonder the kid looked like he’d had an accident in an eyeliner factory.  Some of them would be memories, whether of recent trauma like Lilith or Dean’s most recent Death or Broward County or his beautiful girlfriends Madison or Jessica.  Sometimes they would be older trauma, childhood hunts gone wrong or times he’d been bait or… was that his mother’s death?  He’d been too small?  But Azazel had shown it to him, he supposed, so perhaps that was what he was seeing.

       But the other dreams – those, he recognized.  He could sense his brother’s essence, if not his Grace, lingering around Sam’s mind.  The encounter – one-sided as it was – left him cold.  The Cage had changed Lucifer.  He’d known it was possible, even probable, but here was proof.  His brother was cold now, malevolent.  He threw Dean’s rejection back at Sam, reminding him how he was always destined to be alone until he accepted Lucifer.  How the pagan thing in the next room, with the blonde woman who “should have been” Sam’s, they were only temporary too.  They might even actually care for him a little, but he’d screw it up with them just like he’d screwed it up with Jo and with Ellen and with everyone else he’d ever known.  Just like with Bobby.  It was only with Lucifer that he would find completion, love, acceptance.

       Of course, Lucifer threatened them too.  Filled Sam’s mind with images of Dean and Bobby being impaled, of Lindsey turning into a demon, of Gabriel himself turning him away or being torn apart at a gesture.  And through it all, Sam continued to deny him.

       Gabriel found himself relieved when Sam finally gave up on sleep and went for his morning run.  He had to be able to help that kid.  He still didn’t believe that Sam was going to be able to resist Lucifer – how he’d managed to hold up this long was a complete mystery – but no one should be put through that.

       Sam returned, and Gabriel set out on his mission.  He couldn’t think of any methods by which he could free the boy from any of his torment, not off the top of his head.  He was more of a bestower of torment than a reliever of it.  Still, he did know of a few deities who might have ideas.  The first one that sprang to mind was from fairly close to his old, pre-Loki stomping grounds, although Gabriel wasn’t sure that he’d still be there.

       He found Heka still in Egypt, although he had moved on to Asyut instead of staying in his old cult center.  That wasn’t terribly surprising to the archangel; the old place had changed dramatically.  Nothing displeased the Old Gods of Egypt more than change, and having to watch the place where he’d been worshipped become shunned and then the abode of archaeologists would have been more than even Gabriel would have been able to handle.  Still, it wasn’t difficult to find him.  The ancient god of magic was easily found in Assiut University, a professor of animation.

       Loki walked into his old friend’s office.  Heka had been ancient when Loki had known him, early in his days as a fugitive.  He’d been a kindly deity then and that didn’t change, even in spite of centuries of loss and change.  The form he wore wasn’t substantially different from the form he’d worn back in the day, or back when he’d received the adulation of the people in his proper right while Gabriel watched from Heaven.  His dark skin was simply encased in a pair of dress pants and a reasonable shirt.  He looked a little askance at seeing someone who was so clearly not Egyptian in his office, but he greeted his visitor politely.  “Can I help you?” he offered.

       “Oh, I’m sure you can, my friend.”  Gabriel spoke to him in Old Egyptian, closing his door and pitching his voice so that no one else could hear.  “How long has it been – two centuries?  Three?”

       Obsidian eyes sparkled with delight.  “Loki!  What are a few centuries here and there to the likes of us?”  He embraced his friend.  “Please, sit.”  He gestured.  “Speak freely; no one will disturb us.”

       It had been Heka who had taught Gabriel to warp time without expending his grace; he wasn’t worried about discovery.  Not now.  “It is so good to see you, Heka,” he said with a smile.  “How’s academic life treating you?”

       The Egyptian shrugged expressively.  “I find myself with an impressive supply of young people who are not whole, who need to be made whole.  It’s not quite like the old days, but I’m doing something.  And you?  The last time I saw you, you’d fallen in love with Kali.”

       He shifted.  “Yeah.  Well, we were together for a while.  It was great, but you know how things go.  She wanted someone with more ambition.  I wasn’t interested in ruling Asgard – I’m not suited to being in charge of anything, you know?”  He sighed.  “We split up.  She’s with Baldur now.  They seem happy together.”

       Heka gave him a very old fashioned look.  “Well, I suppose if it wasn’t meant to be.”  It was the kind of thing that people said when they were trying to keep their mouth shut; Gabriel knew better than anyone how little that “meant to be” stuff meant.  Not with them.  Maybe with humans.  “And now?  Anansi mentioned you were in America.”

       “Yeah, well, it’s a target rich environment, you know?”

       They shared a rich laugh.  “But Loki, oughtn’t you maybe to find someplace safer to be?  I mean, the Usurping God’s Apocalypse is upon us, and from what I hear it seems to be centered right in the United States.”  He rolled his eyes.  “In a surprise to absolutely no one.”

       He opened his mouth to object.  “Well, I mean… okay, yeah, I guess you could see that one coming as soon as the Puritans started hanging Quakers and their descendants started torching convents.  But there are good things going on there too.  And really, it would have started wherever the brothers were born.  It had to be these brothers.”

       Heka stared at him for a moment and buried his face in his hands.  “Oh, Loki.  You’re already into this up to your neck, aren’t you?”

       “Well, maybe up to my chest,” Gabriel demurred.  “But honestly, I truly didn’t mean to be.”

       “What’s her name?”

       “Lindsey.  And his name is Sam.”

       The magician laughed again.  “You never do things by halves, do you?”

       “Well, that’s kind of why I came to you.  Sam, you see, is the very unwilling vessel for Lucifer.”  Heka inhaled sharply.  “Oh, the kid’s screwed up seven ways from Sunday, don’t get me wrong.  His mother made a deal with a demon, using him.  Now he’s… well.  He’s a mess.  But why I came to you, is that Lucifer can’t find him physically so he’s going after him in his dreams.”

       “That shouldn’t be possible,” the god of magic objected.  “Unless the boy is not human – does he have the blood of a demon, or perhaps an angel?”

       “Fallen angel turned demon,” Gabriel confirmed.  “To make him a better vessel.  I need a way to keep him out of Sam’s head.”

       “But if you’re already sleeping with him…”  Heka shook his head.  “I don’t see how this is possible, if you’re strengthening him with your seed.”

       Gabriel paused long enough for his brain to catch up.  He rarely had to do that.  “I’m not.”  He blinked.  “I mean, I want to.  I guess.  He’s a great guy.  And strong – he’s held out this long.  But he’s not that into me, and he’s got this weird celibacy thing going on.”

       “Oh.  Well, you’re a god.  You’ll seduce him.  I’ve seen what you’re capable of, Loki.  You do love him, right?”   The god waved a hand dismissively.

       “Yes,” he replied, and was astonished to find that he meant it.  “Very much.  I don’t want to lose him to Lucifer.  Not like this.”  It was the opposite of the path toward which he’d been urging Sam, but it was the truth.  Against his better judgment, he’d gotten more attached than he’d thought possible.  He believed in Sam, and he couldn’t face the prospect of life without him.

       “Alright then.  I’ll give you some symbols to paint onto him before the first time, just to be on the safe side.  If he’s really resistant, it shouldn’t take more than once to block even Lucifer out even if he is the son of the Usurper.  But I know you, Loki.  He won’t be able to resist your charms.  Alright.  What do you say we go and terrify some archaeologists?”

       He handed Gabriel a piece of paper and the pair of them went off to go reanimate some unimportant mummies, letting them chase some undergraduates around a minor necropolis for a few hours before Gabriel made his way back to California.  Heka indicated a desire to communicate with Sam, although only electronically until the “infestation of the Abrahamic spawn” was finished with.

       Sam and Lindsey were both happy to see him.  They showed it in different ways.  Sam’s tiny smile threatened to show dimples.  Lindsey offered oral sex once Sam went to bed.

       After he and Lindsey were finished, and she’d had a chance to rest, he told her about Sam’s dreams and what he’d done.  He didn’t give details, he tried to give Sam as much privacy as he could, and he knew he could be an ass but he wasn’t willing to spring the whole ritual sex thing with someone else on her in front of Sam without talking to her first.  He knew she was willing to share him, but that was just plain rude.  He explained the intention.  “I went to Heka because of the whole belief system that he’s part of.  Magic and medicine and mental health – it’s all one, the patient is one.  Helping Sam is part of keeping him a whole person, instead of turning him into a shell.  If that makes any sense.”

       She shrugged.  “Magic stuff – that’s a lot more something that you or Sam deals with.  Me – I’m better with physical things that I can see or hear or stab.”

       “You’ve really got it in for Castiel, don’t you?”

       “Damn straight I do.  But if you think it’s important, then do it.”  She gave an impish grin.  “Besides.  You know that I don’t mind if you want to sleep with him just ‘cause he’s hot.”

       He laughed and kissed her.  “True.”

       They resolved to bring the subject up the next morning.  Sam went for his usual run.  He showered and then he sat down, eschewing breakfast in favor of his usual cup of coffee.  Then he sat down with his laptop.  “Heh.  It looks like Dean and Castiel got stuck at a Supernatural convention,” he smirked.  “Got an email from Ellen.”

       “What’s a Supernatural convention?” Lindsey demanded while Gabriel guffawed.

       “Oh, there’s a prophet.  Thinks it’s a great idea to write the story of our lives, or parts of it anyway.  It’s basically pulp fiction with really, uh, affectionate overtones between the brothers.”  He folded his lips together.  “I guess they’re not as accurate anymore because according to Chuck we’re still supposed to be together.  But whatever.  Anyway, they have fans.  And the fans decided to have a convention.  Full of people who dress like us, pretend to be us, run around quoting us…”

       “Wow,” Lindsey made a face.  “That’s got to be…”

       “Yeah.  So, this superfan reaches out to Dean and says that they’re in trouble so he and Cas go running over there and it’s a convention.  Except the site really is haunted.”  He snickered.  “That’s what he gets for listening to Becky, man.”  His long fingers danced over the keyboard.

       “Sounds like a good time,” Gabriel chuckled.  “I wish I’d set it up.”  Even with everything else going on, he wondered if he had time to do something with the fans.  Material like that couldn’t go ignored.

       “Sometimes real life just… it’s better than any prank.”  Sam shook his head.

       Well, at least he was in a good mood.  “Sam, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

       “Is this about your trip yesterday?” Sam asked.

       “Well, yeah.  I think I can help you keep Lucifer out of your dreams.”  He outlined what Heka had told him, explaining how it was supposed to keep Lucifer out of Sam’s head and help shore up his resolve.  He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected.  Maybe silence, hopefully acquiescence.  Joyful leaping into his lap and sticking his tongue down Gabriel’s throat would probably be considered a sign of possession, given how dreadfully out of character it was, but Gabriel would have taken it.

       Turning ashen, and then green, was not what he expected.  “You… read my dreams?”

       “Well, I mean you were kind of broadcasting them, kiddo,” the archangel reminded him.  “And it’s not like you don’t talk in your sleep.  It’s why you got a room this time around.”

       Sam’s cheeks pinked up at that, and his hands shook.  “Oh my God.”

       “Look, Sam, I’m trying to help.”

       “I know.  And thanks, but… no.”

       “Wait, what?”  Gabriel blinked.  “Sam –“

       “I appreciate the offer.  It must take a… a lot of fortitude to be able to consider that.  But I just can’t… I mean, I can’t let you do that.  Not to yourself, and certainly not to Lindsey.”  He blinked, rising shakily to his feet.  “I’ve got to go.”

       “Sam,” Lindsey objected.  “Wait – stay!”

       “I’ll be back tonight,” he promised.  And he was out the door.

       The archangel and the human looked at each other.  They weren’t entirely sure where they’d gone wrong, but they were pretty sure that this was farther along the disaster scale than “cold feet.”

 

*

 

       Dean could practically feel the disgust radiating off Castiel as they sat across from the crossroads “king.”  He couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel the same way.  After all, this was a demon.  It wasn’t just a demon, but the demon who had at least supervised his contract.  Jo, too, bristled by his side.  “Dean,” the creature beamed.  “Good to see you hale and hearty, and with such clear green eyes.  The last time I saw you that wasn’t such a guarantee.”

       He couldn’t help but growl at that.  “I got a little help with that,” he ground out.  How dared this… this thing, this monster, remind him of how close he’d come to becoming one of them?  It hadn’t been his fault.  It was Hell.  That was what Hell was for.

       “Yeah, Heaven has all the best ophthalmologists,” Jo added.

       “So I’ve heard.  Do give Naomi my regards the next time you see her, Castiel.  She can do amazing things through the eye.  Believe me.  We’ve learned wonderful things from her.”  He pulled a bottle from his desk drawer.  “I must say I’m a little surprised, Dean.  My intelligence sources suggested that you usually run with your brother.”

       “My brother?” Dean scoffed.  That was all he needed around this guy.

       “Yes, your brother.”   Crowley pulled four glasses from the same drawer and began to pour the whiskey.  Dean could smell it; this was not the typical Winchester rotgut that doubled as wound cleaner.  This was good stuff.  “Gigantic moose, supposed to be our king, also supposed to embody our Father, seems to have some anger issues when it comes to demons.”

       “I know who he is,” Dean spat.  “Your ‘intelligence’ is pretty dumb, buddy.  Sam and I haven’t run together in months.”  He couldn’t miss the way that Jo tensed when Crowley mentioned Sam’s intended gig as king of Hell.

       “No?  Well.  I must say that does put a bit of a crimp in my plans.  The two of you are something to be reckoned with when you’re together.  When you’re apart it’s… well, it’s something very different.”  He hesitated, then indicated the glassware.  “Please, have a drink.”

       Dean paused, then took a glass at random.  “We don’t need him.”  He inhaled the scent.  Oh yeah – Crowley enjoyed the good stuff.  “Wait – what plans?”

       “Well, you did come here looking for the Colt, didn’t you?”  He smirked.  “And I’d have given it to you, too.”

       “You’re a demon.  Why would you give us the Colt?”  Cas squinted at Crowley, leaning forward.

       “Self-preservation,” he told them honestly.  “All these other demons, these Lucifer loyalists, they believe that now that Daddy’s out of prison he’s going to give us a new age of perfection and joy.  The streets will run with blood and we’ll all be free.  Please.  He hates us more than you do.  He didn’t make us as his companions or his equals.  Think about it.”  He must not have liked what he saw on their faces; Jo definitely didn’t look like she was keeping up and Cas didn’t look any better.  “Oh for crying out loud, this is why I was hoping for Bullwinkle.  What does Lucifer hate most in the world?”

       “Humanity,” Cas answered promptly.

       “Gold star for you, fly boy.  And how are demons made, Dean-o?”

       “Human souls,” he muttered, looking at the floor.  “Twisted by torture.”  He gripped his glass, hoping it didn’t break.

       “So wait.”  Jo leaned forward.  “Lucifer didn’t create the demons so he’d have an army.  He didn’t even want to create the demons at all.  He created the first human demon – Lilith – because he was angry at God, he wanted to show how God’s favorite creation could be destroyed and corrupted.”

       Crowley gave her an impressed look.  “See what happens when you let women go to school, boys?  Most other demons don’t get that.  They see Lucifer’s rise as liberation for our kind.  And I suppose technically it is a chance to get away from the rack and the sulfur.  We’ll just be, you know, swept away.  He thinks and we’re extinguished.  He’s an angel, after all.”

       “Sam can do that,” Dean whispered.  “I mean, he could.  When he was on the blood.”

       “He still can,” Crowley advised.

       Dean’s stomach dropped.  “Of course he fell off the wagon.”

       “Did I say that?” Crowley objected.  “I haven’t heard a word about anyone getting drained, and believe me when I tell you that no one wants to go offering him a drop.  I did mention the anger management issues, right?  I thought you’d know that, but if you’ve been separated I suppose that you wouldn’t.

       “At any rate.  Me, I’m a survivor.  And I’d like to continue surviving.  You kill the devil, you stop the Apocalypse.  We both get to keep on living.”  He lifted his glass to his lips and smiled.

       Dean shuddered at the thought that a demon considered his existence living, but he drank from it.  “What makes you think the Colt will work?” he asked, sipping from his own cup.  God, the stuff was like ambrosia.

       Crowley blinked.  “Why wouldn’t it?  It killed Azazel and he was one of the Fallen, a former angel.  Why the bloody Hell wouldn’t it work on  Satan?”

       “Good point.”  Jo glanced at him, but Dean ignored her.  “So you’re just going to give us the Colt back out of the goodness of your heart?”

       “Oh heavens no.  There is no goodness in my heart.  Demon, remember?  You can’t go assuming that there’s goodness there.  It will only get you killed.  But I am giving you the Colt out of enlightened self-interest.  Always bet on self-interest, Dean.  Everyone feels that.”

       He supposed they did.  “All right then.”

       They collected the Colt, finished their drinks and left in peace.  Jo kept her mouth shut until they were back in the car and safely driving away.  “Dean, you know the Colt isn’t going to work,” she reminded him as she changed into her normal wardrobe in the back seat.  Dean had no idea how women managed that, but there she was, wiggling into her jeans and tee shirt without ever showing a glimpse of anything she didn’t want to show.  “Sam told Mom months ago.”

       “So?” he scoffed.  “You’re just going to take his word for it?  He’s Lucifer’s Vessel, Jo.  He’s back to killing demons and whatnot with his mind.  He’s not even human.”  He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, and not even because of the look of withering disgust that Jo threw at him.  At least Sammy hadn’t been here to hear them.  Maybe when this was all over, if it was ever over, he could learn to rein in his temper a little better and then go find his brother again.  Be a brother again, who knew.

       “I would expect that his source was Gabriel,” Cas suggested from shotgun.  “Gabriel would know if the Colt would kill an archangel.”

       “Well then what the hell are we supposed to do, huh?  Let Lucifer run roughshod over the world?  He’s going to be in Carthage, Missouri next week.  We know that for sure.  I’m going in and I’m going to take my shot.”  He gripped the wheel.  It had to work; it was the only chance they had.  “Gabriel wants Sam and me to ‘play our roles,’ remember?  Bastard has an ulterior motive for everything.”

       “You’ll get yourself killed.”  Jo shrugged.  “You have no chance of succeeding and you’ll just get yourself killed.  I’m not interested in watching that; I’ve already lost you once.”

       “I have to do something!” Dean yelled.

       “So do something else!” she yelled back.

       The rest of the ride passed in silence.  

 


	6. You Ask Where We Will Stand In The Winds That Will Howl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel, Sam and Lindsey make a friend. Dean has some fun with a wraith.

Sam stayed out all day, and he stayed out well after sundown.  Of course Gabriel couldn’t find him by normal methods thanks to the rib warding and the stupid hex bag.  For all he knew the kid could be out there dying in a ditch.  Or he could be halfway to Mexico.  He paced the tiny house, cursing in languages that hadn’t had a living speaker since the Pyramids were just diagrams on papyrus.  Lindsey bit her lip.  “Look,” she sighed.  “You found him before, right?”

       “What do you mean?”

       “Well, you showed up at his motel looking for him.  That’s how we met, right?  You were at his motel, trying to convince him to give in to Lucifer?”  She fixed him with a look.

       He tried to make himself smaller.  “It’s still how it’s going to go down, Lindsey.”  He ran his hands through his hair.  He loved her, he loved Sam, but the chances of any of them being able to stop Lucifer or being able to derail something that had been in the works for centuries, something that had been arranged between both Heaven and Hell, were so minute as to be negligible.  “But yeah.  I did find him.   Not the way you’re thinking.  I lucked into hearing about what those jackasses did to him and went from there.”

       She didn’t address his lack of faith in a positive outcome.  “Well, then.  I’d have to say that maybe we could try something else this time, right?  I mean, your powers aren’t just limited to popping in and out of motel rooms are they?”

       He turned his head to the side.  “How did you know that was how I did it?”

       “I know you.”

       “Right.  I guess that there might be a few night critters out there, maybe a ring-tailed cat.  They’re reasonably bright, I can probably follow along and see if they’ve caught a glimpse of him.”  He heard the door open.

       Sam looked like crap – sunburned and haggard, with sweat having soaked through his flimsy running clothes and then dried in salty patches to make the fabric stiff and crusty.  His hair, too, was stiff and wild.  His eyes looked sunken from dehydration and his hands shook.  Both of his housemates rushed forward.  “Sam?” Lindsey inquired gently, as Gabriel laid his hands on the kid.

       He was half tempted to refrain from healing Sam.  He’d taken off into the desert, for crying out loud, and he’d stayed there out all day.  He’d put a fright into all of them.  At the same time, he had to admit that he cared deeply about the big lummox – loved him, even though it was about the worst thing he could possibly do.  He let a tiny amount of Grace help to soothe Sam’s… “Migraine?” he diagnosed even as he felt the pain leave the man’s brain.

       “Vision,” Sam rasped, eyes wild and even brighter for the sunburn.  “I need to go to Carthage.”

       Gabriel blinked.  “Before or after the legionnaires got done with it?”

       Sam’s glare was such a perfect mix of pissiness and frustration that it was almost worth Gabriel’s confusion about the question.  “Missouri,” he said flatly.  “Dean’s about to do something phenomenally ill-advised.”

       “Sam, Dean’s going to do what Dean’s going to do.”  Lindsey took him by the hand and led him to the couch, where she shoved a glass of water into his other hand.  “He’s not your responsibility.”

       Sam sighed, taking a small sip of the water.  “I mean, yeah, he really is, Lindsey.  He’s trying to clean up my mess right now.  And he’s still dealing with having gone to Hell because I was too stupid to deal with the live enemy behind me.  Thought I was too good to kill an unconscious person.”  He snorted.  “Even if it weren’t for those fuck-ups, even if it wasn’t for all of that, I’d still have to go.  He’s my brother and I love him.”

       “But he hates you,” the blonde pointed out.

       “What does that have to do with anything?” Sam demanded, shaking his head a little.  “Gabriel, are you… petting me?”

       “Sorry.”  The archangel snatched his hand back from where it had gotten tangled in Sam’s hair.  “It was mostly involuntary.”  He hadn’t even realized he was doing it.  He’d gotten far too comfortable with Lindsey, with Sam, with this whole little family, in far too short of a time.

       “Anyway, he’s gotten the Colt and he’s going to go try to shoot Lucifer,” Sam continued.  “I’ve got to go and try to fix this.”

       “Sam, no,” Lindsey told him.  “No no no.  I understand that you don’t want Dean to get hurt, but you passed along the message to Ellen.  And you trust her to have passed the message on to him, right?”

       “Oh, Dean-o doesn’t listen to anyone but Dean anymore.”  Gabriel snorted.  “Not since Daddy died.”

       “Can you not?” Sam pled softly.  “I get that you’re pissed at him but he’s a good man.”

       Gabriel rolled his eyes and bit his tongue.  “Look, Sam, you can’t just throw yourself in harm’s way,” he tried.  “I’ll go.”

       “No!” both Lindsey and Sam cried out.  “No,” the former continued.  “I’m not okay with you confronting Lucifer.  I’m not okay with losing you, Gabriel.  I’ve only just found you, and you said yourself that he’s a lot stronger than you are.  You confronting him directly?  It’s suicide.”

       “Besides,” Sam added, not looking at either of them directly.  “That doesn’t solve the Apocalypse, it just changes it slightly.  Instead of Lucifer and Hell confronting Michael and Heaven, it’s Lucifer and Hell confronting Gabriel and the Pagans.  Either way, it’s archangel on archangel.”

       Gabriel grimaced.  “We don’t have the Pagans, anyway.  I’ve said it before.  The Pagans want nothing to do with this whole thing.  They don’t know who I really am, and if they did they’d be pissed.  Rightly so.  They’re not fans of Dad, they’re not fans of anything Abrahamic.  I got Heka to offer some advice but that’s because we’re friends and he might have gotten the impression that we were already in a romantic relationship.”   Sam’s lips folded into a thin straight line.  “What?  He drew his own conclusions.  He’s known me for a long time, Sam.  I didn’t tell him a damn thing.”

       “Whatever.  It’s… just, whatever.”  Sam exhaled in a long, slow, measured breath.  “I get why you’re not interested in helping Dean, and I’m not okay with you facing down Lucifer.  If nothing else that means that Lindsey’s completely unprotected and I’m just not okay with that at all.  So… I need to go to Carthage.  Literally all I want for you to do is to drop me off and get out; I’ll make my own way back.”

       “I don’t like you going in there on your own,” Gabriel frowned.

       “Honestly?  Me either.  But it’s the only way to pull this off so let’s just get this done, okay?” He stood up.

       “What, right now?  You’re still dehydrated and you look like a salt lick.  You’re going to attract deer.  And deer hunters.”

       “Then we’ll be full up on venison for the next ten years, okay?”  Sam rolled his eyes and huffed.

       “Go grab a shower, Sam,” Gabriel relented, a heaviness he belatedly recognized as fear coming over his limbs.  “I’ll do it.”

       Sam did grab a shower, even as Lindsey vocally filed her objections.  Gabriel half listened.  What could he really say?  He shared every single one of them.  Lucifer was going to devour Sam, after all, right before he settled into his beautiful, shiny vessel for the long haul.  But there wasn’t anything else to do – Dean was going to go and be Dean about the whole thing, and letting Michael’s vessel get slaughtered by Lucifer wasn’t exactly the best way to go either.

       Sam, fully dressed and no longer looking like a half-crazed Celtic berserker, was ready to go.  He grabbed a bag, hugged Lindsey good-bye, and let Gabriel fly him to Carthage.  Gabriel let him out near the Monastery of the Mother Co-Redemptrix; it seemed like that would be the safest place, being sacred ground and all.  He tried to get Sam to let him stay and help, but the man was adamant.  He wasn’t willing to allow Gabriel to risk himself like that, not for him.  Hopefully he’d see him and Lindsey soon.  Then Sam gave him a tiny smile and started walking.

       Gabriel returned to California.  He and Lindsey spent most of their time fretting.  He wished that there was another word for it – something stronger, something that implied less hand wringing or fewer tears – but there wasn’t, not even in Enochian.  They watched the news for any mention of Carthage on the news, but nothing came – just the occasional earthquake or volcano someplace far away, or a river here or there turning into blood, or maybe once in a while some kind of  demon attack somewhere.  How pathetic was it that those things were becoming old hat by now?

       “Why do you think he freaked out so bad?” Lindsey wanted to know after two days.  “When you told him, I mean.”

       Gabriel shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I mean, there’s a lot of bad blood between us, but you’d think he’d put it aside to get some relief from Lucifer.”

       “He said something about you killing Dean?”

       Gabriel waved his hand.  They weren’t bothering with clothes, given that it was just the two of them.  They hadn’t anything to be ashamed of, after all.  Right now they were lounging in the bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about Sam saying “yes.”  He wanted to think that he’d know if that happened, that he’d feel it on a cosmic level or something, but maybe not.  He loved the guy, but that didn’t mean that they had any kind of connection.  “I was trying to… I don’t know.  I mean, the whole Apocalypse thing was a foregone conclusion as soon as Dean made a deal for Sam’s resurrection, but I think… I think I was hoping to make it easier for him.  Keep him out of Ruby’s grip.”  He rubbed his face in his hands.  “It just made him hate me.”

       “He doesn’t hate you, Gabriel.”  She stroked his face with one hand, gentle and soothing.  “He doesn’t.”

       “Then why won’t he let me help him?  That’s all I’m trying to do.  That’s all I offered – it wouldn’t have to be anything else, I didn’t even suggest anything else.”  He lifted his head off the pillow and let it flop back down.  “Is it the height thing?”

       “Maybe it’s you being a guy?”

       “Nah, remember?  He doesn’t care about that.  Trust me.”  He gave a low chuckle, even though the last thing he felt like doing was laughing.  “I’ve been watching those boys – both of them – for a very long time.”

       She shrugged, a little smile on her face.  “Then you probably already know why Sam said no.  You just haven’t made the connection yet.”  She kissed him.  “You’re a smart guy.  You’ll get there.”

       “Yeah, okay.”  He snorted.  “I couldn’t figure out a way to keep my family together and I’d known them literally since the dawn of time.  You are giving me way too much credit here.”

       Lindsey took him into her arms and held him close.

       They continued to work on other things while they waited for news one way or the other.  Lindsey continued with her training.  By this point she certainly qualified as a crack shot – not as good as Sam, but at least as good as anyone who had taken up hunting as an adult and that included John Winchester.  She could protect herself with a knife or with any one of a dozen exorcisms, which she could recite from memory.  Gabriel contemplated possibilities for rescuing Lindsey from the destruction of humanity.

       On the fourth day, a prayer reached Gabriel’s ears.  It had been a long time since anyone had prayed to him – not as himself anyway; once in a while someone got it into their head to try and revive the Old Religion way up north and he’d go up and wave the flag for Loki a little bit, but for the most part no one prayed to Gabriel.  When he did get the call, therefore, it surprised him.  Maybe the fact that the call was backed up by Grace had something to do with the fact that he got reception at all.

       He followed the prayer, cloaking himself as best he could until he got to St. John’s Hospital in Joplin, Missouri.  He found himself greeted there not by a choir of angels looking to bring him home for “re-education,” but by Castiel’s worried gaze.  “You rang?” he asked, not thrilled about being called away from Lindsey and his vigil for Sam.

       Castiel cleared his throat.  Gabriel could sense how much Grace he’d lost already.  “I’ve asked you to come despite grave reservations, brother,” he intoned.  “Dean does not believe that you have Sam’s best interests at heart.”

       Gabriel snorted.  “Like he does.”

       Castiel blinked.  “Of course he does.  He’s his brother, and his superior.  Of course he wants what’s best for Sam.”  He took a deep breath.  “In this case, however, I think that he cannot provide that.”

       Something seemed to have caught in Gabriel’s throat.  “What happened?”

       “Come with me.”  He paused.  “You may wish to make yourself appear medical.”  He looked bitter for a moment.  “You’ve done that in the past.”

       “I think it’ll stick out if I put on the Dr. Sexy suit, Cas.”  Nevertheless, he altered his clothing so that he wore scrubs and a white coat as he followed the falling angel out of the empty room and down the hall.

       Cas led him to another hospital room.  This one was occupied, although by some miracle the double room had a single occupant.  That occupant was Sam, too tall for the bed by several inches.  Gabriel had thought he looked terrible when they’d parted; clearly he’d been mistaken, because this was the bottom of the barrel.  His face was a mess of bruises.  His hair was matted with blood.  His body, fortunately, was covered by a sheet but Gabriel could see the protrusion of multiple tubes.  “What the Hell?” he inhaled.

       Dean sat by the side of the bed, staring at his brother’s comatose form.  He didn’t respond, but Gabriel could see him twitch at the intrusive voice.  Castiel began to speak.  “Dean and I obtained the Colt from the demon who had purchased it from Bela Talbot – Crowley, self-styled King of the Crossroads.”

       “But you knew that it wasn’t going to be any good to you against Luci,” Gabriel objected.  “I mean, I told Sam, and he passed the message along.  I know he did.”

       The junior angel squirmed.  “Sam is… unreliable,” he said finally.  “We did not judge it fit that his word be taken as evidence.  He did not cite you as his source, brother.”

       “I’ve been in witness protection for fourteen hundred years.  Longer, really.”  His anger came through in his voice, he knew.  “He didn’t even know when he said it.  All he knew was that I was Loki.  And he was protecting me.”

       “And himself,” Cas retorted in a clinical tone.  “He knew that we would be even less inclined to believe him if we knew it was the same Trickster who killed Dean so often.  But that is neither here nor there.  Ellen and Jo and Bobby believed him, believed in him, so they declined to assist us.”

       “So you went in alone.”  Gabriel shook his head.  “Dean always knows best, right?”

       “I do not know why Sam came,” Cas continued.

       “He had a vision, while he was having a run in the desert.”  Running away from a major freak-out would have been a more accurate descriptor but hey, Gabriel didn’t need for them to know the little family’s private business.  “He wasn’t willing to let Dean get hurt.”

       “Well, he was captured by the demon called Meg and delivered unto Lucifer.  As were we.  I was trapped in holy oil, but I escaped.  Dean likewise escaped, but Sam –“

       “You left him there.”  Gabriel’s disgust was so deep that he shook.

       “We had other things on our plate, Gabriel!”  Castiel raised his voice slightly, but remembered himself and got himself back under control.  “Anyway.  It turned out that Lucifer was not in Carthage to confront Dean, or even to collect Sam.  He was there to summon Death, the Horseman.  And he brought Sam with him.”

       Of course Lucifer had.  He’d wanted Sam to witness that kind of power, that kind of display.  He’d wanted to impress the kid, to terrify him into choosing Lucifer right away.  “Great.  That’s just… he’d have had to possess half the city.  And then kill them.”

       Cas sighed.  “He was able to achieve the possessions.  Having thousands of demons chanting in unison was necessary to summon the Horseman. “

       “So Death, personified, is walking the earth.”  Gabriel had met Death once.  He didn’t think the being liked him.

       “Yes.  But Gabriel, before Lucifer could execute the demons to complete the ritual and bind Death, Sam acted.  He…”

       “He used his freak powers to exorcise the demons and free the meat-suits so Death couldn’t be bound.”  Dean spoke up this time.  He was still staring at his brother’s comatose form, and his voice was harsh, but he spoke.  “Not all of them, but enough of them that the ritual or whatever wouldn’t work.  It… um.  There was a lot of blood.  Shouldn’t have been able to do it, I guess.  Luci was pissed.  Sam probably would’ve passed out anyway.”  He gestured.  “But here we are.”

       Gabriel stared.  “He did this to his vessel?”

       Dean shrugged.  “I guess even archangels have temper tantrums.”

       Cas glared at him.  “I believe that he has hitherto been trying to show Sam his gentle side.  Perhaps he wished to show Sam that he has a less gentle side?”

       Gabriel rolled his eyes.  “Based on what?  I hate to say it, Cas, but I’m with Dean here.  I’m going with temper tantrum.   Why did you call me?”

       “The hospital does not believe that he will wake.  My Grace is…”  He looked away, ashamed.

       Gabriel approached the bed and caressed Sam’s face.  The damage to Sam had been extensive, but the hospital was wrong.  Lucifer would never let Sam die, and he could not afford to damage Sam’s brain permanently.  Sam needed to be able to give his consent, after all, and a comatose patient couldn’t do that.  He turned his gaze to Dean, who had growled at him when he touched his brother.  “What are you going to do, Dean, if I get Sammy here to open up those pretty eyes of his?”

       “I’m gonna take him dancing, what do you think I’m gonna do?” Dean spat out.  “I’m taking him back to Bobby’s and putting him in the panic room.  He’s going to need to detox again.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Because that was such a joy and a wonder to live through the last time.  Least he can’t get out and break the world this time, right?”

       He fought the urge to smack the Righteous Man into next week.  “You think that he drank demon blood again.”

       “Well, yeah.  How the hell else did he exorcise all those people with his damn mind?”  Dean glared bitterly.  “I get – I get that he might not have wanted to, okay?  They had him prisoner.  And while we were together they kept trying to get him to drink.  They… they tried everything.  He told them no, but he’s an addict, man.  He couldn’t have held out for long once I wasn’t there.”

       “I’ve got news for you, bucko.  You’re overestimating your own importance in terms of keeping Sam-i-am on the wagon.”  He managed a thin, u-shaped smile.  “He didn’t drink.  Not even a drop.  There’s no more demon in him than there was when I dropped him off in Carthage.  I’m taking him with me.  I’ll take care of him at home.  I’ll be taking the Colt, too.”  He extended his senses and found the weapon, bringing it to his hands with a snap.  “Get your head out of your ass, Dean.”

       He touched Sam and flew.  He didn’t pause long in the house outside of Lancaster.  “Grab your things,” he instructed Lindsey.  “His too – not like he unpacks.”  He healed as much of Sam as he could with a touch – the damage was extensive, but he would survive.  He’d have come back anyway, but at least this way there was no way that he could possibly alert Lucifer to their location if he should expire without a drip of liquids or blood or antibiotics or what-have-you.

       The next safe house he had in mind was in Jotunheimen National Park.  Technically there weren’t supposed to be private permanent residences in the national park but Loki was a god, and Gabriel was an archangel, and frankly what the authorities didn’t know wouldn’t hurt anyone.  A snap got the comatose young man dressed, although Gabriel thought that a tee shirt and jeans was enough.  Sam had a room of his own, but for now Gabriel settled him into the bed between himself and Lindsey.  He wanted to keep an eye on his patient, and he wanted to guy to come back to himself in a warm and welcoming environment.

       It took about three days.  Maybe Raphael could have done it in less, Gabriel hadn’t ever been much of a healer, but Sam came to with a groan and a wince at the light at last.  A gesture got the light reduced.  “How you feeling, Sasquatch?” he asked.

       “Did it work?” the patient asked, somewhat breathlessly.

       “Yeah, kid.  It worked.”  Gabriel kissed him once, chastely, on the forehead.

       Sam froze.  “Um.”

       “Sorry.  I’m bad at comfort.”  He heroically held back a sigh and explained that Cas had alerted him to Sam’s survival.  “You did good, Sam.”

       “We’re proud of you,” Lindsey added, wrapping her arms around him and pillowing her head on Sam’s shoulder.

       “I should, uh, I should go.”  The hero’s voice sounded strangled.

Gabriel wanted to be offended.  He’d healed the kid, brought him halfway around the country, and here he was trying to get away.  A look into the convalescent’s eyes told him that offense would probably wasn’t the right response here.  He saw a profound grief, such a sense of loss, that he could only wrap his arms around Sam himself.  “Stay, please,” he murmured.  “We were terrified for you, Sam.  Let us… let us just hold you.  Just for tonight.  That’s all.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Sam whispered, but he made no move to free himself.

The next morning Sam still needed help to move around much.  Lindsey helped him into the main room of the cabin, Gabriel following close behind, when they found a visitor sitting at the table.  The man wasn’t tall, and there was very little flesh for his pale skin to stretch over.  Large dark eyes gazed piercingly at the trio.  “Good morning, Sam,” he greeted in a very old-fashioned sounding voice.  “Gabriel.  Lindsey.”

Sam drew himself up a little straighter.  “Sir.  It’s good to see you again.”

“Death,” Gabriel breathed.  Lindsey gasped, but otherwise said nothing.

“Gabriel.  Yes.  It’s me.  I must say, you’re definitely the most creative of your brothers.  I’ve come, Sam –“

“You can’t have Sam!” Lindsey interrupted, stepping forward to put herself between the antichrist and Death.

Death just looked at her, as though he was torn between amusement and scorn.  “My dear, I invite you to consider exactly what you hope to accomplish with that gesture.  I’m afraid I get everyone, eventually.  I will have Sam.  But not, I think, today.  I came because when he was taken from the hospital he was taken without his clothes.  Which included this.”  He held out a ring.

Gabriel gaped.  “Is that… War’s?”

“It is.  Sam and his brother took it when they confronted him.  Dean has been hoarding it.”  Death raised an eyebrow.

Gabriel grinned.  He hadn’t thought of this before.  Death hadn’t been raised yet, and of course the idea of somehow taking Death’s ring was absurd.  But now…  “If we can get all four…”

“Yes.  You can lock your infant of a brother back in his time-out box.  I’ll even make it easier for you.  Once you’ve collected the remaining two rings I’ll give you mine for free.  Temporarily,” he cautioned.  “It is not a joy buzzer, Gabriel.  But Sam’s gambit to prevent me from being bound by Lucifer impressed me.  This much I will do.”  He handed the ring to Sam and with that he was gone, the only sign of his passage being a box of cronuts on the table.

Gabriel grinned.  “Guys?”

“That was Death,” Lindsey murmured.

“And Death just gave us a plan.”  The archangel chuckled.  “We might be able to call off the Apocalypse after all!”

Sam should have looked happier than he did.

 

*

 

Gabriel’s departure – with Sam – left Dean gaping at the empty hospital bed that had once done such an inadequate job of containing his brother.  Cas grabbed him and flew off with him seconds later, and that was definitely a good thing because the screaming alarms were bound to bring someone running any second now and that was not going to end well for anyone.  “Yeah, doc.  Well, see, the Archangel Gabriel – you might know him from such stories as Christmas – decided you were doing a shitty job of taking care of him so he decided to take him back to his troll cave and do something with him there.”  Sure.  That would go over great.

So having one of them that could function was definitely a good thing.  Cas got them back to the Impala, and Dean drove them back to Bobby’s on autopilot more or less.  Bobby let him sit on the couch and stare at the wall for a while before hitting him on the head with a rolled-up newspaper and telling him he was an idjit, an assessment with which Castiel, Angel-Of-The-Freaking-Lord, was forced to concur.  “Whatever you or I may think about Sam, Gabriel has his own feelings.  I must confess that Gabriel has spent far more time with Sam of late.”

“But he doesn’t know him the way that I do,” Dean insisted.  “The kid’s going to slip.”

“Maybe he will and maybe he won’t,” Bobby grumbled.  “But he was right about the Colt.  And he came to save us from that damn witch.”    He glowered at Dean, apparently still bitter about not having been kept in the loop about what had really happened between his surrogate sons.

Ellen was less forgiving when they spoke about a week later.  “Sam’s recovering, no thanks to you.  I told you the Colt wouldn’t work.  Jo told you it was a bad idea.  You going to try listening to someone else at some point, Dean?  Or are you just trying to get your brother killed?  Maybe it’s a good thing that the two of you split up.”

The next phone call came a couple of days after Ellen’s angry call, which couldn’t have been soon enough from Dean’s perspective.  He needed to get out there, save some people, do something.  Carthage had been such a bust, such a complete disaster, that he needed to get back in the saddle just to cleanse his palate.  The call from Martin Creaser, a hunter buddy of his father’s who had decided he wasn’t safe to hunt anymore and had himself committed, seemed like exactly what the doctor ordered.

Sometimes he wondered if this was the future that lay ahead for one of them – probably for Sam, if he was being totally honest.  He had always told Sam that for hunters it ended bloody or it ended sad, and for Dean it was going to end bloody.  There were no two ways about that.  He was always jumping into situations without looking, without thinking; he couldn’t pretend not to know that about himself.  Hell, it had ended bloody for him once already.  But Sammy, he thought, he planned, he survived.   Well, except for that one time when he hadn’t but that didn’t count, right?  Dean had done everything he could to make sure that he lived, but the kid attracted trouble and it was the kind of trouble that messed with your head more often than not.  Those visions he used to have, those had to leave a mark.  Getting possessed by something like Meg, that couldn’t be good for you either.  And what had the demon blood done to his mind?  What about the detox?  Having Lucifer hassle you about becoming a meat suit?

So yeah – Dean would die young, but Sam would probably wind up like Martin or worse.  Although the hospital had seemed to be doing the older hunter some good.  Dean remembered when Martin had to accept that he wasn’t safe out there anymore, more of a danger to himself and others than the things they hunted.  That hadn’t been pretty.  He still had the instincts, though, and he knew that something was stalking the patients where he was.

Finding the wraith wasn’t easy, even from the inside.  The problem was that she scrambled your eggs.  Hunting a wraith when you weren’t sure what was real and what wasn’t turned out to be more of a challenge than Dean bargained for.  It forced the hunter to take a deeper look at himself than he generally liked, too, especially after his time in the Pit.  Maybe he could have handled Sam differently.  Maybe he could have tried to be more understanding, tried to work with Sam to help him get clean instead of just tricking him into a cell and abandoning him to his fate.  Maybe he could have tried to see if Sam was any cleaner after the whole Lucifer thing.

After all, Sammy couldn’t have let Lucifer out of the box, couldn’t have broken the final seal at all, if Dean hadn’t broken the first one.

Eventually Dean and Martin between them managed to gank the wraith.  Dean’s mind cleared, or at least cleared enough to let him go back to work.  Martin’s did not, but he hadn’t been affected by a wraith when he’d voluntarily committed himself.  He was doing well, though.  Having had a success, having beaten an enemy despite his illness, helped.

He tried to get Ellen to give him a phone number so he could reach out to Sam, but she insisted that she didn’t have one.  She wouldn’t give him Sammy’s current email address either, but said she’d pass along his message to contact him.

It wasn’t long after that – a couple of weeks – that an old babysitter called one of John’s old phones, the ones that Dean kept charged up and in the glove box.  It turned out that she’d gotten married and had a kid, and the house they lived in out in Massachusetts was haunted by a poltergeist.  Dean took Cas with him this time, having learned his lesson from the wraith, and it turned out to be a good thing that he did.  “There is no poltergeist in this house, Dean,” Cas declared after they left.  “There were traces of sulfur around the residence.”

“Son of a bitch!”  Dean sat down heavily behind the wheel of his baby.  “Why has it always got to be those bastards, huh?”

“Well, there is apparently a bounty on your head.”  The angel sat gingerly, almost primly in the passenger seat.  Sam’s seat.

Dean stared at him for a minute.  “How do you even know that?”

“Word gets around, Dean.  Nevertheless, I assume you wish to keep your former guardian and early childhood crush safe.  I suppose we should get to the bottom of this.”

Dean decided he didn’t even remotely want to know how an angel knew he’d had a crush on the babysitter.  “Alrighty then,” he said instead.  “How about we get started?”

Of course, the whole thing turned out to be more complicated than that, because Dean’s life couldn’t just be so simple as to involve just having a demonic bounty put on his head.  No, of course not.  This turned out to be three teenaged witches, and while Dean was usually all about killing witches even he had to draw the line at killing kids.  (Even if they were kids who were trying to get brownie points with Satan so they could get a good recommendation to get into an Ivy – geez, what was with the link between Lucifer and Ivy League colleges?  Why couldn’t kids just stay with their damn families?)   The plan had been to take out Dean and to kidnap Sam, delivering him to Lucifer via some kind of complex body-swapping spell that sounded more bizarre than the kind of Rube Goldberg device you saw on a Saturday morning cartoon.

In the end, one of the kids had been persuaded to turn on the others in favor of doing the right thing.  Demons had carried off the other two, which probably sucked for them, but Dean and Castiel had managed to get Gary somewhere safe.  Hopefully he’d manage to keep himself clear of any more bright ideas involving the supernatural.

Sam still hadn’t replied by the time he got back to Bobby’s, but when Anna Milton escaped prison and found Cas everyone agreed it was time to reach out to Gabriel to stop this isolation.

 


	7. But I Write Home Laughing, Look At Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel takes Castiel to Hedonism. Dean expresses some of his family issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for some suicidal behavior.

 

           Gabriel had no idea who Anna Milton was, but he knew that Cas wasn’t likely to call him on a whim.  He sent his falling little brother coordinates and then removed himself to Negril – Hedonism II, to be specific.  It was the last place anyone would expect to find an archangel, and maybe it would help Cas to get the stick out of his ass.

            The seraph landed beside him and sat down in the sand.  Gabriel glared.  “You know,” he led off, “I didn’t think it was possible to get stared at for looking like a flasher at a nude beach but you’ve managed it.”

            Castiel looked around himself with distaste.  “This is not an appropriate environment for a warrior of Heaven, Gabriel.”

            “Which is why we’re here.  They won’t think to look for us here.”  He snapped his fingers and the junior angel found himself dressed in floral board shorts and a tee shirt – still overdressed, all things considered, but at least he fit in better.  “I know you didn’t reach out to me because of some sudden outpouring of family feeling.  Spill.  What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

            His companion winced.  “Please don’t twist my knickers, Gabriel.”

            The trickster rolled his eyes.  “How does Dean put up with you?  Explain the problem slowly and succinctly, Castiel,” he annunciated, sipping from his daiquiri.  A young woman walked by, wearing only what her Creator offered and a navel ring.  He admired the view.

            Castiel did not.  “Anna Milton has escaped from Heaven’s prison.”

            “Yeah.  You mentioned that before, buddy.  Here’s the thing.  Anna Milton is a very, uh, human sounding name.  Human.  Anglo.  Wonder bread.  What’s a human doing in Heaven’s prison?”  He wouldn’t have wished Heaven’s “re-education facilities” on anyone, but a human?  They couldn’t have survived.

            “I am sorry, brother.  I didn’t know how much you had seen while you were… away.”  If Gabriel so chose, he would have been able to see Castiel’s wings dip submissively.  “Anna Milton was her human name.  Anael cut out her Grace and fell, became human.  She regained her Grace with the help of –“

            “Let me guess.  Winchesters.”  The archangel shook his head and sipped from his glass again.  “They get around more than rumors about the new girl at the party, don’t they?”

            “They are a force to be reckoned with when they’re together,” the falling angel replied immediately.  “It was Sam who tracked down her Grace, Sam who came up with the plan to save her.  My orders were to kill her.”

            “Of course it was.”  Gabriel sighed.  “He probably came up with something completely off the wall, too.”

            Castiel’s answering smile was wry.  “I was not expecting it.  Brother, it was I who betrayed her.  I am responsible for her imprisonment and torture.  This was… I had disobeyed, I had been brought back for assistance in remembering my mission…”

            Sam must be rubbing off on him, or maybe it was Lindsey.  Maybe it was both of them.  He put a hand on Castiel’s back.  “It’s torture, Castiel.  It’s what they do.  Don’t beat yourself up over it; try to be better.”  The younger angel nodded, and Gabriel cleared his throat.  “So.  I’m guessing, since you called on me of all people in a panic, that Anael is a little pissed about the whole thing?  Maybe coming after you?”

            “Not me.”  Blue eyes lowered themselves to the sand, stayed there.  “She apparently doesn’t hold a grudge, or at least she prioritizes stopping the Apocalypse over getting revenge on me.  Brother, she is targeting Sam.”

            If Gabriel had a heart, it would have stopped.  “Sam?  But – he helped her!  He saved her!”

            “He is still Lucifer’s vessel.  She believes that killing him and scattering atoms across the universe will be sufficient to prevent the end.”

            Gabriel shook his head.  “No.  Any one of us – the four of us – could reassemble him, given time and motivation.  And we’re all plenty motivated, buddy.  Lucifer won’t let him die.  He’s had time to establish that.”  His mouth seemed to be moving independently of his brain.

            “Are you suggesting that Sam has already tried to end his life?” Castiel blinked, looking up.

            “What did you expect?”  At the time, Gabriel had been angry.  Now he found himself just feeling sad.  “He was alone, completely alone.  He thought he had a chance to stop Lucifer, or at least keep him from getting his true vessel.  You’re going to fault the kid for throwing himself away when everyone else he knew already had?  Give me a break.”  He shook his head.  “He’s pretty safe where he is right now.”

            “I suspect that I know what her next gambit will be, Gabriel.  She will, if she cannot get her hands on Sam now, attempt to go back in time to eliminate the threat before he was protected.”   His mouth gave a wry twist; maybe he’d been living with humans long enough after all.  “It’s what I would do.”

            “Fuck.”  Gabriel stood up and dusted the sand off of himself.  “Get Dean, meet me back here.  We’re going to have to stop her.”  There was no way Castiel could do it by himself, probably not even just with Dean.  This was going to take all of them.

            He flew back to Norway and collected Sam and Lindsey.  Neither of them blinked an eye at the nudity, which strongly suggested that they’d all been together a little too long.  They also took the news in stride, picking up their weapons and preparing for flight as though time travel was an everyday thing for them.  The trust in him, in his information, threatened to send him to his knees.

            Dean and Lindsey growled at each other when they touched down in Jamaica, but otherwise the sides of the Great Winchester Schism of 2009 seemed content to stay separate but equal.  The brothers looked at each other only when the other wasn’t watching; Gabriel couldn’t have said anything about Dean’s state of mind but Sam hid his misery well.  “So.  Time travel.”

            “That’s right, rabbits,” Gabriel told them.  “The five of us are heading back to the era of bell bottoms, terrible mustaches and disco.”

            “Gross,” Lindsey commented after a moment.  “Didn’t Eddie Vedder sing us a song about protecting ourselves from the seventies?”

            “It was a good song.”  Sam shrugged, looking at the ground.

            “Anael isn’t going for aesthetics,” Castiel snapped, stepping up and into Sam and Lindsey’s space.  “She’s going to try to eliminate you and Dean from existence.”

            “Tone it down there, Cujo,” Lindsey scoffed, gently pushing him back.  “We know why we’re going.  Pretty sure no one’s more committed to keeping Sam alive than Gabriel and I are, alright?  Doesn’t mean that bell bottoms aren’t ugly.”

            Gabriel cleared his throat loudly as Dean’s face darkened and Sam shrunk into himself.  “Alright, everyone, put ‘em away, would you?  We all know where we’re going and why, we’re all committed, yes, bell bottoms were a fashion crime for which I personally take full responsibility.”

            Dean sighed.  “Really?”

            “Oh yeah.  Anansi bet me I couldn’t get people to wear them.  That and leisure suits.”  He chuckled.  “Anyway.  We all need to put aside our personal animosities and work together.  She’s trying to erase both of you from history here, by killing your parents before you’re born.”

            Dean paled.  “We can’t let that –“

            Gabriel rolled his eyes.  “Yeah yeah – got it, big guy.  That’s why we got the band back together, remember?  Alright, everyone hold hands and Cassie?  No helping.”  There was no way Castiel’s waning Grace could withstand this kind of mojo, not without a lot of danger both to him and his passengers.  No need to risk it if they didn’t have to.

            “Bend your knees, Sammy,” Dean warned.

            Gabriel could hop through time pretty much at will – there wasn’t much he couldn’t do, if he was being honest.  This was the first time that he’d brought passengers, though, and that took some concentration.  They landed with a thud, Sam and Lindsey having taken Dean’s advice to heart and not fallen over.  Castiel flew away immediately, leading Dean to roll his eyes and make a face.  “Well that’s just great,” he groused, throwing his arms up in the air.  “There he is, doing another disappearing act.”

            “He’s off checking on your parents.”  Gabriel shook his head.  Was this what Sam had to deal with all the time?

            “You think he might have let someone know where he was going?” the hunter complained, pacing.  He paced right into Cas’ chest.  “Cas!  What the Hell?”

            “Anael has not yet reached your family, Dean,” the warrior informed him.  “We should hurry.”

            “Because we’re just going to show up on their doorstep, say, ‘Hi, we’re your son from the future and some buddies, and oh by the way an angel with the worst case of PTSD you will ever see is on her way here to kill you.”  Sam folded his arms across his chest.

            Dean glared at him.  “Unless you’ve got a better idea, Sammy, I’m all ears.”

            Apparently Dean had missed the part where Sam had only referred to Dean as the Winchesters’ son.  Gabriel had not.  “We’ll think of something, Samaroni,” he told him.  “And they have two sons.”

            Sam pressed his lips together for a second, but then he forced a little half-grin.  “They don’t need to know that.”

            “Yeah, it’s not like anyone sits there and dreams of having a son who grows up to become a junkie who ends the world.”  Dean let out a chuckle.

            Before Gabriel even knew what was happening Lindsey was holding him back, pulling back the arm that he was extending to smite.  Sam was standing between them.  “Gabriel – Gabe – it’s okay.  It’s okay.  Don’t worry about it.  We’ve got a job to do, right?”

            “I shouldn’t have said it, Sammy,” Dean admitted, hanging his head.  Gabriel was so shocked that he stopped struggling.

            “Why not?  It’s true.”  Sam shrugged.  “Come on.  Let’s drop in on the folks.”  He stalked off in the direction of his parents’ house.”

            Gabriel and Lindsey exchanged glances.  “Freaking kid,” Dean muttered, shaking his head, and walked off after his brother.

            Gabriel glowered at Castiel.  “You need to keep your hunter on a leash, bro.”

            “Sam acknowledged the truth of his brother’s words, Gabriel.”

            “I don’t care,” Lindsey snarled., hand twitching toward where she kept her angel blade.

            They made it to the Winchester’s house without violence or further incident.  Mary Winchester was beautiful, and she was not happy to see Dean.  Apparently Dean had done the time travel thing before and met his mother, and the meeting had been traumatic for everyone involved.  John, though – John was delighted to meet with family from Mary’s side, since neither of them had much family to speak of.  He invited everyone in for dinner, much to his wife’s chagrin, and was all smiles and affability as he welcomed these “in-laws” to his home.

            Well, he welcomed most of his in-laws.  Sam froze when he saw his parents.  Both brothers’ demeanor changed when they saw their father.  Dean straightened up and presented himself as the good soldier again, but Sam showed only terror.  His fear was just as strong as it had been when he dreamed of Lucifer.  At least Dean had caught glimpses of this John, a kindly, loving, gentle if flawed man who smiled at outsiders and wanted to expand his family circle.  Sam had never seen this man before.  And Mary – Sam had never seen her at all, only as a ghost or hallucination.  He could only stammer out that she was beautiful, and then found himself struck dumb and immobile right there on the porch.

            Dean made an excuse – Sam had been a POW in the war, he was claustrophobic now, blah blah blah, you’ll have to excuse him.  He and Gabriel and Lindsey went inside, leaving Cas outside on the porch with Sam.  The archangel had some misgivings about that; Cas was neither fond of nor sympathetic toward the man he thought of only as an abomination.  Still, neither of them was fit for company right now and to be honest, Dean needed watching too.

            In a way, it was kind of funny to watch Dean try to get Mary alone to try to talk to her.  Mary had no interest in being alone with Dean, and her husband seemed to pick up on that instinctively.  If they weren’t working on some kind of time crunch he’d have just sat back and enjoyed the show.  As it was, he found himself grateful when a work call drew John away briefly.  After a few moments Mary went to check on him and then came back.

            “John’s gone,” she said.  “I don’t – he usually wouldn’t do this.  His boss would never call him for a meeting in the middle of the night.”  She bit her fingernails just like Sam did, Gabriel realized.  “The last time that you showed up, trouble followed.  What’s really going on here?”

            “Lindsey, can you grab Sam and Cas?” Gabriel asked gently.  The blonde left to go fetch the outsiders as Dean began to explain.

            “Mary,  we’re not here to just connect.  We weren’t just passing through.  We got word that you’re in danger,” her son explained.  “We came to try to keep you and John safe.”

            She scoffed.  “Like you kept my family safe from that demon five years ago?”

            Gabriel leaned forward.  “Mary.  We both know that you’re not entirely innocent there.”  

            She startled.  “How can you –“

            “Gabriel, damn you, you leave her alone!” Dean snarled.  “That is not her fault!”

            “She made her choice just like everyone else.  She doesn’t get a pass.”  He shrugged.  “We’re still here to keep you safe, Mary.”

            She took a deep breath, like she was steadying herself.  “Alright.  What do you think you’re keeping me safe from?”

            “Angels.”  Sam’s voice sounded wrecked, but at least he could speak to her now.  “There’s a… um… a rogue angel, I guess, who thinks that taking you and John out will solve some problems farther down the road.  We need to get you and your husband someplace safe.”

            She stared at him for a moment.  “Angels.  Are real.”

            “Yes,” Castiel told her.  “Angels are real.  You have fought demons, Mary; why should their opposite number not also exist?”

            “I don’t know that angels and demons are opposites,” Lindsey objected.  “I mean different, and maybe fighting each other, but they’re not all that different.”

            Castiel gave her one of his squinty glares, but the lady didn’t back down.  Sam sighed.  “It helps to think of them as just a… a slightly different type of creature.  A very powerful kind of creature,” he added.”  He stayed at the back of the crowd, not coming any closer to his mother than he had to.  Was it revulsion?  This was the woman who had sold him to Azazel, after all.  Still, there seemed to be something else there too.  Gabriel just couldn’t quite identify what was going on there.

            “How do we fight them?” their mother wanted to know.

            “You don’t,” Cas told her bluntly.

            “Oh, now Cassie, that’s not entirely true,” Gabriel told her lazily.  “There are ways.  But the first thing I want to do is to move you and John someplace more defensible.”

            “My parents had an old cabin about an hour away.  It’s rustic, but smaller and we’ve got more weapons there.  I’m not going anywhere without John, though.”  She folded her lips together and stuck her chin out; once again Gabriel found himself marveling that she and Sam had never really known each other.  In a lot of ways they seemed like the same person.

            “Alright, alright.  Where is he?”  Gabriel expanded his senses, looking for the senior Winchester’s signature.  Although, he admitted, at this point John was technically younger than Dean.  “Got him.  Everyone got what they need?”

            “Wait – what?”  Mary looked around in confusion, but it was too late.  Gabriel snapped his fingers and the six of them flew to the garage.

            They didn’t arrive a moment too soon.  Anna had already killed John’s boss; the man’s corpse lay on the floor, eyes smoking.  John himself  had been thrown into a shelving unit and now lay propped up against it, stunned; his twitching, groaning form was covered in what looked like spark plugs and bits from spare headlights.  “I wish I could say it was good to see you, Anna,” Dean sighed, pulling out an angel’s sword from somewhere in his layers.  Seriously, where had he hid the thing?  It wasn’t like he wore long jackets.

            Lindsey pulled her own blade and moved to protect Mary, who ran to her husband’s side.  Cas joined her, although what he thought he could do for John with his waning Grace was beyond Gabriel.  “I could say the same to you, Dean,” the red-haired angel replied serenely, using her telekinesis to push out at Mary Winchester.  “Sam.”

            “Anna.”  Sam’s tone was professional, neutral.  He had nothing in his hands, but Gabriel could sense that he’d blocked Anael’s attack on his mother.  “You look good.  All things considered.”

            She gave a little half-laugh.  “Don’t fight this, Sam.  It’s for the best.”

            “Maybe.  If you hadn’t gone after John and Mary.”  He shrugged.  “Come on, Anna.  We’ll find another way.  There’s a plan.”

            “I’m sorry, Sam.  I can’t trust a plan that comes from Lucifer’s Vessel.”  She raised a hand as she approached, and Gabriel recognized that it was intended to smite.  He interposed himself between them.

            “I wouldn’t if I were you.”  He let just enough Grace show through to identify that he was an angel, not enough to reveal his identity but enough to let her know that she wasn’t unopposed here and now.

            She blinked.  “I – brother, why would you defend a degraded thing like him?”  She clutched at her head and cried out, then disappeared.

            “What the Hell was that?” John demanded, letting his wife and Castiel help him to his feet.

            “And what the Hell are you?” Mary added, glaring at Gabriel.

            “Call me Loki,” Gabriel tossed out.  “As for the rest – we can talk about that when I get you somewhere safe.”

            As it turned out John was not willing to go anywhere via angel express; he was going to drive, damn it, and they were going to shut up and stop treating him like he was the slow kid in the class.  And there – there was the John Winchester that Gabriel knew.  There was the guy that had raised Sam and Dean; he’d been there all along.  Mary’s lips folded together but she didn’t gainsay her husband, and Sam absolutely jumped at his father’s tone.  Getting seven people into the Impala was challenging, especially when two of them were Sam and Dean, but they managed.  Castiel sat up front with John and Mary, and Gabriel sat on Sam’s lap and draped himself across Sam and Lindsey.

            It was easily the most tense road trip he’d ever taken, and that was saying a lot.  Even the pleasure of sitting on Sam’s lap didn’t help.

            Once at the cabin Gabriel set about warding the place.  This was something of a challenge.  Had he and Cas not been there they could just use generic angel warding, and angel banishing sigils would be a simple and effective weapon to put into the Winchesters’ hands.  They weren’t an option now.  The absolute last thing anyone needed was for Castiel to be banished back to Heaven, and while Gabriel could probably manage to avoid that fate he really didn’t want to test that out.

            “Alright,” John snapped once hatches had been battened, wards had been drawn and bandages had been applied where needed.  “I want some explanations.”  No one moved.  “Now!” he roared.  He turned to face his wife.  “We’ve been married for five years; why am I just now finding out that you’re some kind of ninja?”

            She sighed and hung her head.  “Because you weren’t supposed to know.  I was supposed to be done with that life.”

            “You made a deal to be done with that life,” Gabriel reminded her harshly.

            “Leave her alone, Gabe,” Sam sighed.  “What was she supposed to do?”

            Gabriel could think of lots of things that Mary had been “supposed” to do, starting with letting what was dead stay dead.  He didn’t think that Sam would be up for hearing any of them right now, nor was this the time for metaphysical discussion.

            “How do you even know about that?” Mary snapped.  “No one else was there.  No one.  Me, that… that thing… John was dead…”

            “Wait – dead?” John gasped.  Then again, maybe the metaphysical discussion was going to happen regardless of timing.

            Mary nodded, eyes wet with tears.  “I’d always planned to leave that life behind.  Always hated it.  My dad wasn’t thrilled about that – that’s why he hated you.  But… well.  Then he got possessed.”

            “Possessed.”  John rubbed at his face.  “I want to say you’re crazy, you need help, but I know that what threw me across that room wasn’t natural.”

            “No, she wasn’t.”  Castiel sighed.  “She was an angel.  A rogue angel.  And so are we.”  He gestured to himself and Gabriel.

            “Dude,” the archangel objected.  “Witness protection.  What part of that don’t you get?”

            “And an… angel… is trying to kill us.”  John nodded.  “Because Mary stopped… something.”

            “No,” Sam said softly.  “Not because of anything… Not because of you.  Listen.”  He was still hanging back, far away from his family.  Dean was hovering as close to them as he could, but Sam didn’t seem to want to get any closer to them than the door.  “It’s not because of you.  Look.  It’s complicated.”

            “Then uncomplicate it,” John yelled.  Sam jumped.

            “They’re your sons,” Gabriel told them softly.  All movement in the cabin stopped.  “Time travelled from the future, because Anael was coming back to kill you.  They’re your sons.”

            Mary pressed her hands to her mouth as her eyes filled.  “I raised my kids to be hunters?” she whispered.

            “What the hell?” John scowled.

            “Hunters of the supernatural,” Dean translated while Sam turned away.  “We save people from evil things.”  He glanced at Sam.  “Mostly.  It’s… it’s not a bad thing.  The issue is…”

            “Mary, you didn’t raise your sons,” Castiel explained.  He turned to John.  “You did.”

            John’s jaw worked.  “I put children in that kind of danger?”

            “You were maddened by grief.”  Castiel shrugged.  “You believed it was necessary.”    

            “But why –“

            “Mary’s deal for your life,” Gabriel explained.  “It wasn’t for her soul.”

            “He said he needed ‘access,’” Mary whispered.  “He didn’t say what for.”

            Gabriel had little sympathy.  It was a demon; he wasn’t going to ask to borrow the stove.  Sam, however, just smiled.  Maybe it was a thin, sad little smile, but he smiled.  “It’s not important, Mary.  What’s important is that you recognized what he was, and you fought him.”

            “So what do we do?” Mary asked in a small voice.  “I mean… there has to be something that we can do.  You… you both look so… we have to be able to fix it.”

            The door to the cabin flew open.  Anael stood there, seething.  Behind her stood a smirking – and much younger – Uriel.  “Two angels, four mud monkeys and a stain,” the latter sneered.  “Someone want to tell me what’s going on here?  Or should I just draw my own conclusions?”

            Gabriel saw Sam twitch at the slur.  “Easy, kiddo,” he tried.  “It’s just words.”

            “Nothing he hasn’t said before.”  Sam’s tone was even and his eyes on the enemy.  He didn’t look at his family.

            Gabriel, on the other hand, did.  Mary paled when the angel referred to her son as not human.  John just looked confused.  Had this been the moment when John’s affections were lost to Sam – five years before he was even born?  “Go back to where you came from, feather dusters,” he ordered them.  “You’re done here.  There’s nothing for you here.”

            “I’m sorry, brother.  But the Winchesters must be eradicated for the safety of  the world.”  Anna’s eyes bored into him with a terrifying intensity.  “I would prefer not to kill you, but I will go through you if I must.”

            Well, at least the disguise was working.  Gabriel readied his blade, but Sam put a hand on his arm.  “If you can avoid killing her, please – try to take her alive,” he requested.

            “Have you forgotten the part where she hates you and wants you dead?” Lindsey fumed.

            He shrugged.  “Who doesn’t?  She’s been tortured, guys.  They hurt her, twisted her mind, but she’s still fighting on our side.  She still wants what we want.”

            “We don’t want my son dead,” Mary snapped.

            “But we don’t want the Apocalypse either,” Sam told her gently.  “The point is to try to get her to work with us for the same goal.”

            Gabriel rolled his eyes.  “No promises.”  He shook a finger at the young man.  “Not risking you.”

            Gabriel wasn’t worried about the fight.  After all, he was an archangel.  He could obliterate both of these lower-order angels with a thought – they hadn’t any weapons that could work on him.  Uriel he tore from his vessel and sent back to Heaven with a gesture.  Anael took more work, not because she was a threat but because he had to get into her mind.

            He burrowed inside, touching her very Grace.  Heaven’s torturers had inflicted a great deal of damage.  He could heal some of it, given a chance.  Some of it would require time.  Some of it, inflicted by Raphael himself, would probably never heal quite right.  For now, he could only knock her out.

            The procedure took time and focus.  When he came back to himself, handing the body over to Sam for transportation, he saw Lindsey and the Winchesters staring at Sam in horror.  Tears streamed down Mary’s face.  Gabriel decided that whatever it was that Sam had said, she’d have five years to get over it.  “Time to go,” he said, shoving the unconscious angel into his burly arms.  “I’m sure that Uriel will call the God Squad down on our heads any minute now.”  He gestured at the wards.  “Remember – keep yourselves safe.”

            “Don’t forget what I told you,” Sam instructed solemnly, just before Gabriel brought them back to their own time.

*

            As soon as they landed, Dean turned around and punched Sam in the face.  Hard.  Sam staggered, almost dropping Anna.  “You goddamn son of a  -“  He couldn’t say that, not about Mom.  “You finally get to meet Mom and you have to go and make her cry?  Jesus Christ, Sam!”

            Lindsey stepped in between the two of them as Gabriel took Anna and laid her down on the bed.  Gabriel had popped them back inside some kind of beach condo or cabana or something, he didn’t know.  Before Dean could react, Lindsey slugged Dean, loosening teeth.  “That’s the last time you hit Sam,” she informed him coldly.

            “Chick or not,” Dean warned her, stepping right into her personal space.  Who did she think she was, anyway?  “I will punch you in your face.”

            “I’m not your brother,” she spat out.  “I hit back.”

            Dean didn’t like the implications of that remark, not at all.

            “That’s enough,” Gabriel snapped at both of them.  “What the hell is going on here?”

            “Sam implored Mary Winchester to abandon John so that he was never born,” Cas tattled in his monotone.  “He confessed that the Apocalypse, that the angels coming to kill John and Mary, was entirely his fault and the only way to stop Lucifer was to prevent his birth.  So he extracted a promise from her that she would abandon John and not allow him to be born.”  He shrugged.  “It was a sound plan.”

            Jesus Christ, Cas.  “You don’t tell the woman who gave you life, who died so that you could live, that she has to make sure that you’re never born!” Dean cried out.  Sam’s eye was already swelling, and he supposed he should feel bad about that, but Sammy had made his mother cry.  His one chance to see his mom since she’d died and this asshole had to go and make her cry.  “Why do I have to sit here and explain this to you freaks?”

            All of a sudden Gabriel was in his face, and maybe the guy was tiny but hell if Dean wasn’t suddenly reminded of exactly what “archangel” meant.  “Let me get this straight.  Your brother makes the single most elaborate suicide attempt that I have ever seen and your response is to punch him in the face because of how you feel about your mommy?”

            “He wasn’t thinking about anyone but himself!” Dean insisted, glaring at his brother’s turning back.  Sam walked out of the hut or whatever it was.

            “He was thinking about stopping Lucifer you buffoon!” Lindsey seethed.  “And his mother sold him to a demon!”

            “You shut up!” Dean bellowed.  It wasn’t the best comeback, but he couldn’t think beyond the grief that welled up in him.  That had been his mom, and his dad before the booze and the Mission and the grief.  And he hadn’t gotten to enjoy any of it, because they had an Apocalypse to stop and because Mr. Woe-Is-Me had to go and make Mary cry.

            “Lindsey, go and sit with Sam, would you?  He probably shouldn’t be alone right now.  I mean, it obviously didn’t work, because he’s still here, but yeah.  He’s probably pretty down.”  Gabriel kept his eyes on Dean as the blonde left.

            “I’m not afraid of you,” Dean told him after a moment.  “Lock me in another stupid TV land, I don’t care.”

            “I knew your brother was screwed up,” the archangel sighed.  “I thought we’d got him past anything like this.  Guess not.”

            “What are you talking about?”  Was Gabriel implying that Sam had tried suicide before?

            “Your brother just tried to erase himself from history, you moron!  That’s not a plea for attention, that’s not ‘oh-they’ll-miss-me-when-I’m-gone,’ that’s ‘there never was a Sam.’”  Dean froze.  “Good.  Got your attention.  I’m trying – I’m trying really hard – but you’re not making it easy here.”  He cleared his throat.  “I’m going to bring Sam and Lindsey home.  Then I’m going to work on Anael here.  For reasons that I’m sure will be obvious to someone, she’s probably not ever going to be able to work with the three of us.”

            “Well I mean she wants Sam’s head on a platter so yeah.”  Dean snorted.

            “She should fit right in here then.”

            Dean slammed his hand onto the table.  “Damn it, I don’t want to kill him!”

            “Prove it, Dean.  Show that you give a crap.”  He sighed.  “I’ve tried, Lindsey’s tried, but all he wants, all that matters to him, is big brother.  That’s the only kind of affection that means anything to him.”  He shrugged.  “We get him showing a little interest, maybe a little hope, and then –“  He waved a hand.

            “I have to keep him from saying ‘yes’ to Lucifer,” Dean pointed out.  “How’m I supposed to do that if he’s running around…”

            “You’re driving him right into my big brother’s arms, bucko.”  He sighed and turned a little away from Dean.

            “Look,” Dean tried.  “Sam knows I just lose my temper sometimes.  He knows I don’t mean anything by it.”

            “Which is why he asked your mother not to give birth to him.  Look.  Just… work with Anael, okay?  And try to stay out of our way.”

            Gabriel closed his eyes and surrounded both himself and Anna with a golden glow.  Dean twitched in his seat.  Was he really driving Sammy toward Lucifer?  That… it didn’t make sense.  He loved his brother, he was trying to save him from the Devil.  He wasn’t sending him toward Lucifer.  Maybe it was tough love, but it was love.  Should he loosen up, go easier on Sammy?

            At the same time, was it realistic to ask Dean to just wave away everything Sammy had done?  He’d betrayed him with a demon!  Dean’s dying wish had been that Sam keep hunting, ignore his psychic powers and live his life according to what their father had taught them.  Instead he’d brought about the end of the world.  He loved his brother, and maybe if they got through this they could have some kind of relationship again, but for now he just got so incredibly angry every time they had contact…

            And really, nothing Sam did could make it better.  That was at least as much Dean’s thing as Sam’s.   He was comfortable enough in himself to admit it.  Sam could probably single-handedly save the world and Dean would still be angry.  He needed more time., time to deal with himself and with everything that had happened.  Maybe then they could get back to the way things were and start to heal.  

 

 


	8. I Know My Weakness, Know My Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Trickster gets hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for addiction and addiction-related issues in this chapter.

Gabriel had gotten used to Sam going quiet for a while after these little reunions, but when Sam didn’t speak for twenty-four hours after they returned to Norway he decided that he’d had about enough of that.  He turned to Sam over breakfast.  “I’m surprised you didn’t want to take more of an opportunity to get to know them.”

       Sam looked up from his coffee.  God, the kid looked terrible.  “What do you mean?”  The bruising on his face barely stood out against the dark shadows that encircled his eyes, and if the guy didn’t eat something soon he’d be the next poster child for Famine.

       “Mom and Dad.  Dean, he remembers them like that.  Well, sort of.  They were parents, but still.  By the time you were noticing anything John was – well, he wasn’t what you were looking at.”  He noticed Sam’s snort.  Yeah, “not what you were looking at” was putting it mildly.  “And you never knew your mom at all.”

       Lindsey passed him a hard-boiled egg.  “Yeah, Sam.  I’m not judging – I mean, I’m so not in a position to judge – but I’m curious.  How come you wouldn’t even go nearer than the door?”

       He tensed up, then forced himself to relax.  “It’s not a big deal, you know?  I mean, maybe it would’ve been nice to know them.  I don’t know.  But even if I’d gotten to know them now, as an adult, I still wouldn’t have known them when I was a kid.  I wouldn’t have those memories.  It wouldn’t make a difference.  And them knowing me, knowing about me, sure as hell wouldn’t improve their lives.”

       She made a face.  “You got a full ride scholarship to Stanford.”

       “And I failed at that too,” he bit out.  “Look, I’m going to go… do something.”

       “Sam,” Gabriel interrupted, putting a hand on his arm.  The guy recoiled like the touch burned him so Gabriel backed off, but at least he’d stopped him from fleeing.  “We want to help.  We’re here.  Okay?”

       He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, visibly composing himself.  “I know.  I know you are.  And I appreciate it, I really do.  I just… “

       “It’s a challenge,” she shrugged.  “Especially when it comes to dealing with family.”

       He sat back down again.  “They were horrified by us.  By me,” he pointed out.  “She was horrified by me.  She doesn’t even know the half of what I am, but just from what she saw in front of her… she wasn’t…”  He took a deep breath again.  “Most kids… they have that kind of…”  He trailed off and shook his head.  “It’s not important.  Let’s just focus on the rings, right?  The sooner we fix… that… the better off everyone will be.”

       The other rings, of course, were in the possession of Famine and Pestilence.  How they were supposed to go about getting the rings was a whole different matter.  Lindsey started looking for cases, the way that Sam had taught her.  She wasn’t entirely sure what would indicate the presence of famine or pestilence – sure, an outbreak of a multi-drug-resistant strain of TB at Supermax could be the Horseman, but it could also just be a normal and horrifying risk of prison life.  Still, she prowled news reports.  Sam, for his part, trawled through lore.  Gabriel could fetch him whatever books he wanted, and plenty of books were available online these days.

       Gabriel had another card to play, one that left him very glad that he’d hidden the house in Norway as well as he had.  He didn’t have an army of hunters out there being their eyes and ears, and he didn’t have an army of angels or demons either.  He did have other allies, from the other side of his dual existence.

       He hadn’t been lying when he said that the Pagans weren’t likely to be on board with the whole Apocalypse thing.  In the whole Heaven versus Hell spat, the Pagans were Switzerland.  They’d all lost ground to Gabriel’s Father and His cults.  Hopefully he would be able to trade on that – not to directly confront either side, that would be an unmitigated disaster, but for information.

       Heka, of course, rolled his magnificent obsidian eyes but agreed to pass notes should any information come his way.  He inquired as to the efficacy of his cure for Sam’s Lucifer problem, which led to some uncomfortable admissions.  The magician-turned-animator laughed at him, although he admitted that he found Sam’s response somewhat troubling given that he could only benefit from the act.

       Gabriel’s next contact was Anansi; he found his counterpart back in Ghana, running a web operation that would have made Sam’s eyes either water or light up, maybe both.  “Loki,” the god greeted, grinning widely.  “Let’s go cause some trouble, shall we?”

       And so they did, heading off to Peru to make some trouble for no reason other than they could and they both enjoyed the way Peruvians made ceviche.  They kicked around there for a day or two before they got down to business, Gabriel being happy to spend some time just being free and not having the weight of the world – well, not exactly on his shoulders, but looming quite so nearby.  After turning an exceptionally sexually aggressive military man into a statue, however, Anansi turned to the archangel.  “So, Loki.  Tell me what made you seek me out.”

       “Can’t a guy just want to come and see an old friend?” the trickster protested.

       Anansi gave him a look.  He was not, specifically, a trickster god but a god of wisdom who simply used his wisdom to show “authority” where to stick it.  “Someone else might do that, Loki.  Baldur, perhaps.  You, though – you haven’t done any truly epic pranks in some time.  And then you come to me?”  He laughed and shook his head, a smile splitting the perfection of his dark brown skin.  “We come to visit when we’re passing through on our usual business.  That’s not what brought you to my door.”

       “I’ll have you know I did pull a truly epic prank only a few months ago,” Gabriel huffed, even though he knew that his friend was right.  “I happened to trap Michael’s true vessel and his runaway angel keeper in an alternate reality – basically TV Land, only funnier.”

       Anansi pursed his lips in consideration.  “Not bad.  Not bad.  Why?”

       “Well, he was being a dick.  And I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do about the whole… you know… Apocalypse situation.”  It was a little too far to stretch the truth, but hopefully his old friend wouldn’t entirely recognize the lie.

       “Mmm-hmm.  Loki, there isn’t anything we can do about the Abrahamic Apocalypse.  The best we can hope for is to sit back, ride it out and hope there’s something left to work with when it’s all over.”  He shook his head.  “It’s a shame, but I think that’s our best bet.”

       “You know, I thought so too,” he confessed.  “I truly did.  I spent a bunch of time trying to convince Lucifer’s vessel just to give in, get it over with.  Let the other shoe drop, you know?”  When the god nodded, Gabriel continued.  “Here’s the thing – there’s a very real chance that we can beat this thing.  I didn’t think there was, but it turns out there’s a way to lock Luci back up in his Cage.”

       Anansi guffawed.  “Pull the other one.  It’s got bells on.”

       “No, really!  All that we need are the rings that belong to the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”  He ran a hand through his hair; it sounded silly when he said it out loud, in front of someone not caught up in the middle of it.

       “Because they’ll be so eager to just hand them over, horse boy.”

       “That was one horse.  One!  And I’ll tell you a secret.”  He gestured for Anansi to come closer.  He could trust his friend with this; he’d known him for fourteen hundred years at least, and besides – it wasn’t like the other side didn’t already know that they had this ring.  “We’ve already got War’s.”

       “Oh really?”  The taller man leaned back, impressed.  “How did you manage that?”

       “No idea.  The Winchesters got it before I started hassling them about the whole vessel thing.”  He shrugged.  “But if we could get it off that insufferable prick War, we can get more.  It’s got to be better than sitting around and hoping we maybe don’t die, right?”

       “More exciting, at least.”  Anansi stood up.  “You know that we can’t beat them in a direct fight, Loki.  We’re gods, but they’re…”

       “Pigeons on gamma rays.  Yeah, I know.  I’m not asking for that.  I wouldn’t ask for that.  All I want is for people to keep their eyes and ears and little extra sensory tentacles open for me.  Let me know if they get any inklings as to where Famine or Pestilence might be.  I’m reasonably certain that they’ll be in the States somewhere, but that doesn’t really narrow it down much.”

       “No, it doesn’t.”  He sighed.  “I’m in.  Information I can do.  And I’ll work on the others for you; I know that there are some who don’t exactly view you with kindness, my friend.”

       “Thor looked awesome in that wedding dress.”  He grinned.

       He returned to Norway.  Lindsey had been keeping an eye on Sam, who seemed more or less the same.  The nightmares had gotten worse, of course, although whether that was because of Lucifer’s continued mental assaults or because of the family get-together she couldn’t say.  Gabriel might have been able to spy on Sam’s dreams, but he’d seemed kind of horrified by the idea when they’d talked before so the angel made a point of blocking them out.

       They continued to work on other projects as well.  A draugr showed up in a nearby town; they happened every once in a while for reasons no one ever really bothered to try to understand.  Sam took Lindsey with him to go take it out.  Gabriel didn’t like that much, but she insisted.  She needed to improve her hunting skills, she wanted to back him up, she wasn’t a princess to be locked away in a tower.  They came back a few days later, both a little banged up but closer for the shared experience.

       Word started to trickle in from Anansi and Heka and their contacts; both preferred to reach out electronically which meant connecting with Sam or Lindsey.  Heka seemed to have a distinct preference to connect to Sam, which struck the youth as a little odd but he wasn’t going to go looking a gift horse in the mouth.  Especially once he and Heka started talking ritual and magic; good Lord it was almost like the man had been dropped into a candy shop.  Well, at least he’d stopped moping.

       Indeed, it was a ritual that Sam developed – with Heka’s guidance – that helped them to get a bead on Famine.  He explained the process.  “We’ve got one of the rings right here, right?” he said, with more animation than they’d seen from him in weeks.  “And no, we’re not going to destroy it.  But it’s… well, it’s special, right?  Made from the same stuff that the other rings are made from.”

       “Okay,” Gabriel nodded.

       He described a location spell Ruby had once performed for him.  “Heka helped me to modify it, because I’m pretty sure Famine is concealing his whereabouts and, well, he’s not my blood.  But Heka thinks it’s got a good chance of working.”  He looked up, biting his lip.

       “Well what are you waiting for, Samshine?” the archangel demanded.  “Get to casting.”

       Sam rewarded him with one of his rare, fleeting smiles before pressing War’s ring into a black candle.  He chanted some of the corrupted, debased Latin that many demons used for their spells – evidence that he was indeed basing this on one of Ruby’s lessons – and lit the taper.  That was when he changed the language, switching to the melodic tones of the very oldest form of Egyptian, the kind that Heka’s first worshippers had used.  After a moment he grabbed the map and lit the edge on fire.

       Lindsey jumped, and Sam grinned.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought the first time I saw the original version of this spell done.  The only thing we really need to worry about is the part of the map that shows us where Famine is.  The rest of it is kind of all, you know.”  He shrugged.

       “And if it burns the cabin down?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

       He folded his lips together but widened his eyes – not hiding anything this time, but clearly a little lighter of heart.  “Um… we build an igloo?  Or an ice fort?”

       She couldn’t help but laugh, which eased some of the lines in Sam’s form.

       The fire went out of its own accord somewhere around Rapid City, South Dakota.  “Huh,” Lindsey said, forehead wrinkling.  “That’s odd.”

       “What’s so odd about it?” Gabriel wanted to know.

       “Well, I saw a case there – maybe a case, maybe just gross.”  She grimaced.  “There was a couple there, first date and everything.  It looks like they just… you know… I mean they ate each other.”

       “We eat each other all the time,” the archangel pointed out.

       “Do I need to throw a bucket of snow at the two of you?” Sam demanded.

       “You’re welcome to join in,” Gabriel offered, waggling his eyebrows.

       Lindsey gave an exasperated little huff.  “Not what I meant.  I mean they ate each other.  While they were still alive.”

       Even Gabriel felt a little nauseous at that.  “You mean… like, consumed.”

       “And digested,” the blonde confirmed.  “Each other.  To death.  Alive and awake, the whole time.”  She glanced at Sam.  “I hacked the police report like you showed me.”

       “That’s kind of… wow.  Nice job on cracking the cops, though,” he hastened to add.  The genius grabbed his own laptop and started typing.  After about ten or fifteen minutes he looked up.  “Okay,” he said slowly.  “Well.  Rapid City looks like it’s just… a center of fun and excitement these days.  It looks like DUIs have skyrocketed over the past few weeks in the area.  ODs, too – and some of these people look like they’ve been clean for years.  On paper, anyway.”  He shrugged.

       Lindsey frowned at him.  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

       He looked over at her.  “It means, Lindsey, that we’ve got a bunch of people who have probably made a very strong commitment to staying clean and sober and been successful for a long time.  All of a sudden they’re all falling off the wagon at the same time.  That doesn’t… it doesn’t work that way, Lindsey.  One person, two people might slip, if they’re friends and they have the same trigger that sets them off or whatever.  You’re not going to have an entire town’s population of recovering addicts just… relapse like that.”  He glanced back at her and smiled softly.  “You taught me that.”

       She relaxed and reached across the table to put a hand on his.  He flinched, but didn’t run.  “Sorry, Sam.  I didn’t mean to jump down your throat.”

       “I know.”  He withdrew his hand.  “Gabriel, do you think this could be related to Famine or did I fuck up the spell?”

       “There’s no reason to think you fucked up the spell, kiddo,” he told his friend.  “I mean, famine, or Famine if you want to be specific although I’ve never met the guy personally, is all about hunger, right?”  They both nodded.  “Hunger doesn’t have to be just for food, guys.  Lindsey, when you were drinking, let me guess.  It was like you were going to starve to death if you didn’t get a drink, right?”

       She looked down and away.  “Yeah.”  She took a deep breath and sighed.  “A lot like that, actually.  By the end, by the time I got sober anyway.”

       “And Sam.  I know it started out differently for you, but by the end – you almost died in detox.”

       “I should’ve died in detox..”  He gnawed on his fingernails a little bit, foot tapping on the ground.  “And it’s not like it really ever goes away.  I mean, I’m doing a lot better now.  We’ve fought demons and I’ve been fine, not even a hint, but yeah.  Sometimes I’ll be feeling helpless or frustrated and I’ll just…”

       “Crave it,” Lindsey finished for him, with a nod.  “Yeah.  We get it.  We’re addicts.  But I don’t see how you get from two addicts hiding out in a survivalist’s paradise in Norway to a young couple literally eating each other alive?”

       Gabriel chuckled.  “You love my survivalist’s paradises, both of you do.  Anyway.  Sam, why don’t you do some poking around and see what you can dig up on the victims from here.”

       Sam obliged.  It never failed to amaze Gabriel that a guy who’d grown up essentially nomadic and had majored in being an argumentative bastard could push a couple of buttons and dig up pretty much anyone’s life story – it just seemed unjust.  He should’ve had to go to school for that or something at least, or been an ugly nerd who lived in a basement corner or something.  “Okay.  We’ve got a guy who’s never successfully had more than three dates with the same woman, looks like he takes being married to his job to a whole new art form.  The lady in question is, uh, inexperienced.”  He blushed and tugged at his collar a little.  “Not that there’s anything wrong with that; the detective’s notes say that the sister was very insistent that it was her choice.  But it looks like she didn’t get out much.  I’m going to go with the idea that they were craving… connection?  Love?  Each other?”  He threw his hands up.  “I don’t even know, man.  This one’s weird.”

       “Looks like we’re heading back to the States.”  Gabriel stood.

       “Are you sure this is a great idea?” Lindsey objected, even though she was already moving toward their room to grab her bag.  “I mean, if there’s some kind of supernatural force that’s making recovering addicts relapse, whether it’s Famine or something else, is bringing two recovering addicts into that space really the best idea?”

       He sighed even as Sam went to grab his own belongings.  “Probably not.  But I don’t see as we have much choice.  I’d go in myself, but I’m not positive that I can handle this one by myself.  A Horseman might be able to take an archangel.  And he’d definitely be able to call Lucifer, and I know I can’t take on both a Horseman and Lucifer.”

       “Nor would we let you,” Sam pointed out.  Lindsey shook her head in agreement with Sam.  “I mean, yeah.  I’m nervous.  I don’t want to… you know.  I’m clean, I’ve been clean for a while, and I want to stay that way.  But we need that ring.  And, well, I know that I’ve got the two of you to keep me grounded.  I don’t know that it’ll be perfect, you know?  But it’ll do something, all right?  It’ll help.  And I’ll help you, Lindsey.  And so will Gabriel.”

       Lindsey bit her lip, but she shouldered her bag and got into position for flight right alongside Sam.

       Rapid City was not a pretty place to be in February, although it hadn’t ever been one of Sam’s favorite places to be.  The trio set up shop in a hotel, a little more upscale from the typical hunter fleabag because there were always perks to traveling with a god no matter what the catastrophe du jour, and then they set out to start their investigation.

       They posed as journalists – after all, a case like two people eating each other was bound to cause interest.  Sam was a little repulsed, but Dean was still using the fake-FBI shtick and Gabriel wanted to try to distance them from Dean and his pack.  Still, they needed information, and people liked to see their names in print.  Sam could huff and puff as much as he wanted.

       It worked, too.  It never ceased to amaze Gabriel how humans were perfectly willing to just ignore what was right in front of them.  Okay, great – grandpa was off the wagon.  Never mind that he’d gotten himself clean and sober for twenty years, thirty – the guy goes off the rails at the same time that the entire rest of the freaking town goes off and suddenly he’s always been a lousy drunk who’s never been good for anything.  They had a case of a guy who literally gorged himself to death on junk food – he didn’t die of heart disease or diabetes, he literally ate until his stomach exploded – and people just shook their heads and muttered to themselves about how “some people” had no self-control.  All the while they themselves were breaking into the till at work or just opening up the tap at the bar and drowning themselves in suds or whatever.  They refused to see, because they didn’t want to see.

       So far, Lindsey seemed to be doing okay.  Maybe she wasn’t doing perfectly, not as well as someone who had never experienced addiction would have, but she was doing okay.  She might have been a little short tempered here and there.  She got snappish with Sam when he pushed a little hard about following up another lead before heading back to the hotel or forgot to stop and find food for them, and she seemed to need to have Gabriel touching her most of the time.  She wasn’t sneaking out or trying to get them to go to bars or anything.

       Sam – well, Sam had always been hard to read, but it didn’t take rocket science to figure out that Sam was having a hard time of it.  He was pale, he was sweaty, and between the way his eyes went flat and his nostrils flared like a bull Gabriel could see that he was angry.  On the one hand it was a nice change from “mopey.”  On the other, an angry Sasquatch could be unpredictable, and they didn’t need unpredictable right now.

       Gabriel did learn something new, after they found out about the guy who’d gorged himself on junk food.  They’d gone to the hospital to see if they could badger the medical examiner into giving them information when Sam suddenly stopped in the middle of the main entrance and started sniffing the air like some kind of bloodhound.  His lip curled, a move Gabriel couldn’t decide if he thought was disturbing or sexy, and he turned on his heel and started stalking after a man in a black suit.  The man carried a briefcase.

       Gabriel and Lindsey tore after Sam.  They didn’t want to spook whoever he was after, but they didn’t want to let him out of their sight either.  After all, they were pretty sure that they knew what he was after.  Sure enough, once Sam caught up to him and punched him in the face the man’s eyes turned jet black.  “Winchester,” he growled.  “We should’ve known that where one of you went the other one would follow.”

       Great.  There was a complication that they all needed.  The Dean squad was in town.

       Sam snorted.  “Whatever.”  He punched the demon in the face again.  “What’s in the handbag?”

       The demon head-butted Sam in the nose, trying to get free.  “Your mother.”

       Sam staggered back, nose bleeding, but he kept his hold on the creature he’d captured.  His face twisted into a snarl of hate.  He reached up with his other hand and clenched his fist, and the demon cried out.  Lindsey rushed forward and grabbed the case as the monster dropped it.  “Why are you here?” Sam seethed, breathing heavily.  His eyes glittered in the gray light of the afternoon.  Gabriel glanced around them quickly; the demon’s cry had been loud and couldn’t help but attract attention.

       “Go fuck yourself.”  The demon let loose another scream as Sam gestured again.  “Fine.  I’m making a delivery, okay?”

       “To whom?”  Gabriel stepped forward, carefully restraining his Grace.  Their prisoner would only sense him as a god now.

       “Louis XIV, who do you think?”  He sneered.  “Now let me go.”

       Sam smirked.  “Why would we do that?  Where is he?” he asked, giving the demon a little shake.

       “I’m not telling you that.”  He gasped.  “Biggersons,” he admitted.  “Biggersons!”  He sagged against the wall.  “Just kill me.”

       “What, you don’t want us to send you back to Hell?” Gabriel grinned.  “Don’t you think you’d get a very good reception?”

       Lindsey grimaced.  “Just put him out of his misery.”

       Sam obliged, extinguishing the life of the demon with an exhalation.  His hands shook as he turned to them.  “Sorry,” he said, eyes on the ground.

       Gabriel put a hand out, but very carefully didn’t touch Sam.  “How are you feeling now?”

       “Less, uh… less.”  He gave a wry little grin.  “I, uh.  I smelled him.”  He took a deep breath.  “I smelled him.   From twenty feet away.”

       “It’s okay, Sam.”

       “Not really.  Humans can’t smell demons.”  He folded his lips together and looked up again, chin set.  “So.  Biggersons.”  He straightened himself up.

       The trio made their way over to the Biggersons and observed it from the outside.  If there was anyplace that Gabriel hated as a blight upon the Earth, it was Biggersons.  Bland food, everything the same no matter where in the country you went – everything he hated.  No wonder it was the abode of demons and Famine.  “The place stinks like the grave,” he commented as Lindsey scrunched her face up.  “I think they’ve got corpses in there.”

       Sam seemed unmoved, which made sense.  After all, he’d been messing around with corpses and graves since he’d been a kid.  “Yeah.  Well, there’s a bunch of dust on these cars, except some of those Caddies, so I’d say they’ve got some folks in there who’ve been there for a while.”  He shrugged.  “I guess that they wouldn’t bother cleaning them up or anything.”

       Lindsey cleared her throat.  “Should we go in?”

       “Let’s head in through the back,” Gabriel recommended.  No one objected.

       Famine was, indeed, inside.  So were Dean and Castiel and Anael.  Anael was restrained within a circle of holy fire, although she snarled when she saw Sam.  Gabriel tried to think of it as being tied in to Famine – her hunger was to stop the Apocalypse, which meant (for her) destroying Sam.  Castiel was on his knees, eating raw ground beef by the fistful.  He didn’t even notice the new arrivals.  And Dean – Dean had been restrained by Famine himself, on his knees before the Horseman with a contemptuous look on his face.

       The Horseman himself appeared as a wizened old man, confined to a wheelchair and frail.  Gabriel of course could see the reality behind the illusion.  Famine was immense, and there was nothing frail about him.  He did however feel compelled to give a standard Evil Villain Monologue, which he interrupted when he noticed Sam’s arrival.  Gabriel, instinctively, reached out with his divine magic to shield Lindsey.  “Ah, my boy!  My boy!  It is so good of you to join us!” he greeted in a wheezing voice, spotted face beaming like a damn light bulb.

       “You act like you’re proud or something.  Like you wanted him here,” Gabriel objected.

       “Of course,” the Horseman chuckled.  “He’s practically my poster boy.  He’s the exception that proves my rule.  He’ll never die from drinking too much.  And of course he’s starving, in so many ways.  Aren’t you, Sam?  But it’s okay.  You can go ahead and fill yourself up with the next best thing.  They’ll bare their throats for you.  They’ll even like it.”  He gestured to the demons attending him, who stared straight ahead of them with impassive faces.

       Gabriel’s stomach turned.  “What the Hell are you talking about?” Dean spat out, giving voice to what everyone was probably wondering.

       “Oh, come now.  Starved for blood, certainly.  Starved for affection.  Starved for love.  Starved for acceptance.  Starved for fulfillment.  Starved for forgiveness.  There’s only one way that you can get that, Sam.  And to get there, you have to drink.”  He gestured again.

       Lindsey turned her head into Gabriel’s shoulder.  “I can’t watch,” she whispered.

       “I’ll pass, thanks,” Sam said in a strong, confident tone.

       “Really?  You think you can resist me?”  Famine gave a snort.  “I admire your fortitude, boy, but we both know how weak you really are.  But it’s no matter.  I’m hungry too.  If you won’t take them, I will.”  He gestured, and at a breath the demon souls were pulled out of their host bodies and sucked into Famine.

       Gabriel gaped.  The Horseman had literally just devoured his attendants.  “Did you just…”

       Famine shrugged.  “What of it?  They’ll make more.  Not nearly as satisfying as a human soul, but I was hungry.”  He laughed, almost gently.  “Put your hand down, Sam.  I’m a Horseman.  Your powers don’t work on me.”

       “No,” Sam declared firmly.  “But they’ll work on them.”  He twisted his hand, a complicated gesture before moving his hand down, and the black smoke that Famine had just eaten was pulled out of his body.  The Horseman screamed as his form began to dry out and the souls he’d consumed were forced into Hell.

       Sam stepped forward and pulled the ring off Famine’s corpse, slipping it into his pocket.  Dean rose shakily to his feet as Lindsey slowly released her hold on Gabriel’s jacket.  She and Castiel both sought out fire extinguishers to put out the circle around Anael, who glared daggers at Sam.

       Dean ran his hand through his hair.  “I guess we’ve got some things to talk about.”

       Sam shrugged.  “I suppose.”

       Gabriel groaned.

 

*

 

       Dean gave the archangel groaning near the blonde the stink eye.  “Quit your bitching, short stack.  I get to talk to my brother.”

       Blondie scowled at him.  “You only get to talk to him if he allows it.  And even then only if you don’t hurt him.”

       “I’ve never hurt Sam!” he objected, turning to face her.

       “Even I know that’s not true,” Cas scoffed, wiping away at the meat around his mouth with an expression of the most profound disgust.  “You punched him in the face the last time you saw him.”

       Well, that was true, but he’d made their mother cry.  And he hadn’t hurt him, that was just brothers being brothers.  “Look.  I just want to talk to Sammy.”  He looked at all of them.  “Alone.”

       Gabriel gave the eye roll to end all eye rolls – seriously he was going to hurt himself.  “We don’t trust you alone with him, Dean-o.  What part of this don’t you get?”

       “Guys,” Sammy interjected softly.  Kid hadn’t lifted his eyes from the floor since killing Famine.  “It’s okay.  I’ll talk to him.”

       “Sam –“ Gabriel began.

       “It’s okay, Gabriel.  Look.  Why don’t we just go back to the hotel room, okay?  At least then we’re not surrounded by...”  He gestured to the charnel house that had once been a chain diner.  “Come on.”

       Dean hated flying, but if it would let him talk to his wayward brother he’d do it.

       The Trickster winged them all back to a room at a decent hotel, way nicer than anyplace the Winchesters had ever stayed.  Sam gestured to a table in the corner.  Gabriel and Lindsey took seats on one of the beds, the blonde resting in the angel’s arms.  Castiel and Anna perched on the other bed, adopting that “resting” look that they so often did.  “So,” Dean tried.  “This is as private as we’re going to get, huh?”

       Sam shrugged.  “Apparently I get unpredictable when we run into each other.”  Unpredictable?  What the hell was that supposed to mean?  “How’ve you been?  You’ve been hunting with Anna?  How’s that working out?”

       Small talk, then.  “Oh, fine.  Good.  She’s awesome.  It’s good having her around.”  He definitely wasn’t going to bring up that they’d started sleeping together again, there was no way he was going to bring that up in front of Douchey McAngelpants and Blondie.  “It’s a little weird hunting as part of a trio again after all this time, but I guess you’d know all about that.”

       “I’ve had some time to adjust,” he said drily.  “We, uh, took out a draugr.  Me and Lindsey.  That was different.”

       “Oh yeah?  How’d that go?”

       “Meh.  I mean, we’re kind of focused on the whole Lucifer thing but the draugr was getting to be a problem and it’s good to not get rusty so.”  He shrugged.

       “Well.  Look at you.  Weren’t you the one who was all ‘I’m leaving hunting for a normal life?’”  He couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into his voice, not any more than Sam could help the tightness that crept into his in the reply.

       “Wasn’t just hunting that was the issue, Dean.  But – well, things’ve changed, I guess.  I know, now, that I’m not going to get a safe life.  Which is what I was going for in the first place.  But I’m not going to convince you now, not if I never did.”  There was grief there in those words, in his eyes.   What was he grieving?  The loss of Jess and Stanford, all of those dreams?  Or something else – maybe the fact that he couldn’t convince Dean of whatever it is that he’d been trying to find when he ditched?

       Dean grunted.  He didn’t have the patience to try to tease out Sam’s moods.  “Still using your powers.”

       “Pretty sure you knew that.”

       “They’re evil, Sam.  They come from Hell, from a demon.”  He pounded on the table for emphasis.

       “Yeah.  Yeah they do.”

       Dean blinked.  “Then why the hell would you use them if you know they’re evil?”  He could feel Gabriel’s eyes burning into him.

       “They’re the only tools I have.  I get that you don’t like them, I get that you don’t trust them.  Or me.  But they’re a part of me, they don’t just go away because you want them to.”  Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes, but his tone was even.

       “They’re not human, Sam!”

       “Doesn’t change anything, Dean!  You can’t just… I don’t know, pray the monster away.  I’m a freak, I’m a monster.  I always was, I made myself into a bigger one and I can’t change that.  Pretending it’s not there isn’t going to make it go away.”  His tone was so resigned, so despairing that Dean thought he might cry.

       “It did before!” he tried.  “After Azazel died.  No reason it can’t happen again.”

       “Apparently not,” his brother pointed out drily.  “Look.  You don’t have to live with it, okay?  I’m staying away, I’m working on things from my side of the fence, my hemisphere.  I’m doing everything you asked.”

       This was his opportunity, the one he’d thought would never come.  “You know, I tried to call you,” Dean told him.

       “When?”

       “A few days after you called me.  Ah, Zachariah had sent me on some kind of wacky trip into a possible future, you don’t want to know.”  The image of Sam’s body, clad in white and with someone else behind the wheel, sprang to mind.  “I tried to call you to come back, but your phone was off.  Disconnected.”

       “Too easy to trace.”  He shrugged again.  “Let’s face it; that would’ve been a disaster.”

       No, Dean thought desperately.  I’d have kept you safe, Sammy.  I’d have kept you human.  He couldn’t say that, though – not with his enablers sitting right there.  “Listen,” he said.  “Did you have to make Mom cry?  I mean, I haven’t seen her in twenty-six years, man.  Did you have to take that away from me?” Behind him he heard Lindsey move, but Gabriel held her back.

       “I had to try, man.  Think about it this way.  If it had worked, she’d still be your mom.  You know?  You wouldn’t have had to miss out on those people – good, loving parents.  You’d have had a happy childhood with parents who adored you.  Took you to the park and, I don’t know, did whatever crap parents do.  I was trying to do the right thing.”

       “But it didn’t work, Sam.  And now all I can remember is her crying.”  He shook his head.

       “Yeah, well, why would that be any different.”  Sam slumped a little.

       “Aw, come on, Sammy.  I didn’t mean it like that.”

       “Of course you did.  Anyway.  What else did you want to talk about?”

       He looked at his little brother, really looked at him.  Looked at the way he avoided eye contact not just with Dean, but with everyone.  Looked at the way his entire body shrunk into itself.  Looked at the way his body had shrunk down, until it was nothing but muscle and skin and bone and that was it.  Looked at the dark circles under his eyes, the way his entire face seemed to be sunken in.  This kid had saved him today, saved all of them, and he wasn’t celebrating.  He was miserable.  “Sammy…”

       “Good talk, Dean-o.  Enjoy the room.”  Gabriel sprang to his feet, grabbing Sam.  The blonde grabbed their bags and just like that the three of them were gone, leaving Cas and Anna and Dean and a pile of questions.

       Cas looked at Dean.  “I don’t think he’s well.”

       Anna frowned.  “I find that I dislike having had my life saved by that abomination.  Again.”  He glared at her.  “But he did save my life.  Again.”  She knew that it had been Sam who insisted that she be spared, saved, instead of slain.  “Yes.  I believe that there is cause for concern.”

       “Now if someone would just let me do something about it,” Dean groused.  “Not like I’ve got a world to save or anything.”

       Anna ran her hands over his back.  “You can only do one thing at a time, Dean.  No one expects you to manage both.”  

 


	9. And I Go Along With Everything You Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Sam get some work done. Anna suggests a solution to the Michael problem.

 

           They had two rings now.  In theory they had three, although Gabriel wasn’t willing to bet the farm on Death’s promise to just hand over his ring when the time was right.  Okay, sure, Death hadn’t ever really broken his word before but anything could happen between then and now.  There was no use counting chickens before they hatched, or before the eggs were laid or whatever.

            Part of him wanted to run Sam’s location spell again, get Pestilence’s ring and get the whole show on the road.  Why wait?  Why drag this whole miserable drama out even a second longer than it had to be?  The fact that Michael and Lucifer hadn’t gotten together to have their little hoedown yet hadn’t stopped anyone below them from mixing it up, and absolutely no one on either side gave a rat’s ass about collateral damage.  “It kind of makes me sick,” he commented, shaking his head at the television.  He and Lindsey were sitting on the couch about a week after the adventure with Famine; Sam sat at the table, poking away at his laptop.  “I mean, the demons I get.  Death and destruction, it’s kind of their gig, right?”

            Sam shrugged.  Gabriel didn’t have to look, he could practically hear the gesture.  “I guess.  I mean, I’ve heard of a few who had some other plans but sure.  Ultimately  yeah, they’re kind of all about the whole… burn it down thing, I guess.”

            He pointed at the news report on the screen.  “That?  Five hundred people found with their eyes burned out in Jakarta?”  He shook his head.  “That’s not demons.  That’s angels.  That’s angels, and while they’re perfectly happy to hunt Castiel or Anael for disobedience they’re completely ignoring Dad’s biggest command of all – love humanity.  Protect humanity.  Cherish humanity.”  He threw up his hands in disgust.

            Lindsey frowned and looked away from the screen.  “Isn’t that what this whole thing is about?  Didn’t… you know, _he_ … refuse to obey that same command?”

            Sam gave an exhausted half chuckle.  “You can say his name, Linds.  He’s not Voldemort.”

            Gabriel relaxed.  It was good to see Sam trying humor, at least.  “Yeah.  Well, I mean exactly, sweetheart.  They make me sick.  They all make me sick.  Lucifer had to get locked up for putting words to what everyone else was thinking anyway, and now he’s… well.  Now he’s beyond recognition.”  He glanced at Sam.   “You look awful.”

            “I know.”  Sam pulled the two rings out of his pocket and put them down on the table, spinning War’s around noisily.  “It’s kind of funny, you know?  They’re just… hunks of metal.”

            “That’s another thing that pisses me right the hell off,” Gabriel ranted, getting up off the couch and crossing over to stand near Sam.  “I can’t feel anything from those rings.  They’re just… rings.  That’s it.  How is it possible that they’re keys to my brother’s jail cell, huh?  How is this even possible?”  He leaned forward.  “They’re basically shiny rocks.  Why did you have to go through all of that sixty-six seals nonsense if you could have done it with a few shiny rocks?”

            Sam had paled when he mentioned the sixty-six seals, but Gabriel couldn’t let himself feel bad about that.  After all, what had happened had happened.  “Yeah.  Lucifer had to be free in order to release the Horsemen, I guess.  And they had the shiny rocks.”  He quirked half a grin.  “Now that they’re free, the other options are on the table.”

            Gabriel backed off.  “Eat something, Sam.”  He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and tried to not be offended when the man flinched.

            “Do you think Lucifer knows?” Lindsey wanted to know, angling her body away from the screen to look at them.  “I mean, do you think he’s aware of what the rings are for?”

            The archangel considered.  “I mean… nah, no way.  He’s been locked up forever, literally, and he tried to bind Death.  I don’t think Death would take kindly to that, you know?  My bet is that he just thinks we’re trying to derail this thing by taking out horsemen.  I don’t think there’s any way he could possibly know what we’ve got in mind.”

            Sam nodded.  “He’d say something if he knew, or even if he suspected.”

            Gabriel startled.  “Wait, what?”

            “He’s still giving you shit, Sam?” Lindsey added.

            “Well yeah.”  The tall man ran a hand through his hair.  “He wasn’t going to stop just because of what happened in Carthage, you know?”

            “Sam, let me help you,” the angel pleaded.  “It’s not penance, it’s not going to somehow purge anything you did for you to suffer like this.  It’s just going to make you slip up or wear you down.  Please.  Let me help you.”

            “I can’t, Gabriel.”  He looked down.  “It’s very nice for you to offer.  Really.  But I can’t.”

            “Is it because of the vessel?  Because there’s no one else in here, okay?  It’s just me.  Pagan god, remember?  It’s different for me than it is for other angels.  Built this one myself.  It’s all me.”  He sat down in the chair nearest to Sam as Lindsey came around and put her hands on Sam’s shoulders.

            The poor guy looked like he wanted to run, run as fast as his long legs could carry him.  “That’s not it, okay?” he insisted, chewing on a nail.  “I mean, it’s good to know.  Thanks for that.  But that’s not the thing.”

            “Is it me?” Lindsey asked him, planting a gentle kiss on the top of his head.  Sam closed his eyes.  “Because Sam, Gabriel and I have talked about this.  We’re okay with it.  We’ve agreed.”

            “No – I mean, I don’t want to come between you but I’d say no anyway.  Look, can’t we just drop this?”

            “Sam.  This is killing you,” Gabriel told him.  “I’m not perving on you here, I just want to help you.  It’s the Apocalypse.  You need to be able to focus, Sam.  You need to be able to function if you’re going to be able to help put my brother back in the box, alright?  I know it’s not ideal, it’s not what you really want –“

            “Gabriel, that’s not the problem.”  He stood up quickly, the power cord coming out of his laptop from the sudden movement.  “It doesn’t matter what I want or don’t want, okay?  You’re an angel, Gabriel.”

            Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and leaned backwards, eyes narrowed.  “Yeah, and?  I remember a time when you did an awful lot of praying to angels, bucko.”

            Sam snorted.  “Yeah, well.  Then I met some.  That’s not the point.  I’m _unclean_ , Gabriel.  I’m a fucking monster.  I was literally built, designed, to destroy the earth.  You’re not just an angel, you’re the last angel to hear God’s voice.  The last one He trusted to carry His message.  No.  I can’t let you… I can’t let you touch me.  I shouldn’t even let myself be in the same room.”

            It was like something was tearing somewhere deep inside his Grace.  “Sam… no.  You’re not a monster.  I mean, that’s what you’re supposed to be, sure.  That’s what someone else wants you to be.  And sure, it could still happen.  But it doesn’t have to, Sam!  We can stop it.   That’s what I’m trying to do here.”  He stood up and grabbed Sam’s hands.  “He’s wearing you down, kid.  Trying to make you feel like crap so you’ll give in.  So you’ll feel like there isn’t any choice but to let him do what he wants with you.  But Sam, Sam, listen to me.  Even if you were a monster, even if you were what you think you are, you couldn’t hurt me.  Not many things can.”

            “I’m the lowest kind of filth, Gabriel,” he ground out.  “I’m not even a demon, I’m worse than a demon.”

            He’d done this to Sam.  Not all of it, not even most of it, but he’d had a generous hand in it.  “Sam.  I’m a god.  And I’ve done some pretty screwed up things myself.”  He sighed heavily.  “Look.  You’ve got your reasons for hesitating.  And while I may not agree with those reasons, they’re how you feel and they can’t be disregarded.  They’re valid.  But Sam – you need to defend yourself against Lucifer, kiddo.  And this is the only way to do it.  If there was any other way, I wouldn’t push.  You know I wouldn’t.”

            “Yeah.”  Sam’s voice was wrecked.  “Fine.”  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I’ll do it.”

            Well that wasn’t the enthusiastic consent he was going for – Sam looked like he was going to his execution, for crying out loud – but under the frankly exceptional circumstances he’d take it.  “You should be okay here for a few hours, right Lindsey?”

            She grinned.  It looked a little plastered on, but Gabriel understood why.  She wasn’t jealous.  “Yeah, of course.  This place is perfectly safe.  Go.  Have fun.”  She waved a hand at them, shooing them away.

            Gabriel grabbed what he would need to paint the appropriate symbols onto Sam’s skin and then moved them to yet another safe house.  Sam looked around himself.  “Not bad,” he admitted, distinctly not looking at the king-sized bed.

            “It’s a step up from your usual hunters’ flop houses.  We’re in Dubai,” he supplied.

            “Isn’t what we’re about to do illegal here?”

            Gabriel snorted.  “You think anyone knows we’re even here?  All-powerful archangel, Sam-i-am.  That means that no one else even realizes that this apartment even exists.  We can do whatever we want in here and no one will hear.  But I wanted to get you out of the cabin for this.  Make it a little less stressful for you.”

            Sam huffed out a laugh.  His shirts were already off, and Gabriel would have been lying if he said he didn’t enjoy that view.  Maybe the flesh was marred by more than a few scars, but it was still perfectly sculpted.  He mixed the pigments for the paint and traced the symbols Heka had given him onto Sam’s torso, frowning when his partner jumped.  “Relax, Sam,” he urged.  “This is going to be awfully complicated if you can’t handle having my hands on you just to put the symbols on.”

            “What are these for again?”  Sam looked away.

            “Insurance.  Heka originally assumed that we were in a regular long-term sexual relationship, which would have kept your mind safe from Lucifer.  When I corrected him, after he gave me no end of shit for not moving in on you like a proper god should, he told me that these symbols would make it so that we’d only have to do this once.”  He made himself grin.

            “Oh.”  Gabriel could see Sam forcing himself to relax, or as close to relaxing as Sam ever got anyway.  “Makes sense, I guess.  He’s a smart guy.”

            “Yeah.  Handsome, too.  I could make an introduction once this whole thing is over.”  He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.  “Assuming we all survive of course.”

            Sam rolled his eyes.  “Whatever.”  There wasn’t any real heat or annoyance there.  Unless Gabriel was really reading the guy wrong, he sounded almost fond of Gabriel.  Fond with an underlying note of sadness, and that wasn’t something that he liked hearing from his lovers right before their first time together.  Of course he didn’t usually offer to hook his lovers up with someone else before their first time together either.  Nothing about this was normal, nothing about this was comfortable, and he wondered not for the first time where he’d gone wrong this time.

            He finished drawing the symbols onto Sam, who dropped his pants and turned around.  “Alright,” he said through gritted teeth.  “Let’s get this over with.”

            Gabriel blinked.  “Uh, Sam?  I know you’ve been with other guys, so I know that you know that wouldn’t be a whole lot of fun for you.”

            “It’s not about fun, Gabriel,” Sam told him, turning around.  His hazel eyes glittered.  “It’s about getting the job done, remember?  The whole reason that you’re doing this to yourself, to Lindsey, is so I don’t screw up and say ‘yes.’”

            Gabriel shook his head and sat down on the bed, patting the seat next to him.  “Sam, I think you maybe don’t understand how the mechanics of this spell are supposed to work.  It’s got to be good for you too – you literally _have_ to get off or else there’s no protection.  My mojo can’t get in there, psychically, unless it’s at that moment when your pleasure is greatest.  We’re talking like, hair-curling orgasm.”

            Sam stood up.  “I don’t think I can do this.”

            “Sam –“

            “Gabriel, you don’t even want this!” he objected, waving his hands.  “And I’ve never been good at casual.  Never.  And I mean I appreciate what you’re willing to do here but I don’t think that I even can just… get off… for something casual and –“

            Sam’s eyes had gotten wild just in the few seconds since they’d started this discussion.  He was on the verge of a full-scale freak-out, and that was going to kill the mood completely.  Gabriel reached up and pulled him down, not ashamed to use a little of his Grace to manoeuver the larger man into a position where he could join their lips together.

            He’d only done it to shut Sam up, to disengage that defeatist thought spiral.  He’d always thought that Sam’s brain just wasn’t wired for pleasure or romance, his few relationships notwithstanding.  It wasn’t like he’d shown much interest in the subject outside of those outliers, not like Dean had, and it wasn’t as though there hadn’t been interested parties.  Once Sam caught up to what was happening, though, he took control of the kiss with enthusiasm.  He might be part demon, he might be on deck for Satan himself, but Sam Winchester knew what to do with his mouth.  His lips, his tongue, had been made to please.  “Damn, Sammich,” he breathed, pulling back.  “That was impressive.”

            Sam, as it turned out, had more skills than just kissing.  For all his reluctance he was eager to shower Gabriel with attention and he knew exactly what he was doing when he went about it.  The archangel could have easily forgotten that they were supposed to be doing this for a specific cause and just let Sam take care of him all night long, but the sight of those glowing symbols on Sam’s chest and abdomen reminded him.  He had work to do.

            For all of his enthusiasm in working Gabriel up he seemed more hesitant when it came to himself – almost like the appeal for him, or part of it, was in getting his partner off.  Gabriel could be patient, though – time had little meaning to something like him – and he turned the act of opening Sam up into a stimulating, sensual experience.  Eventually they were both sweaty messes and he was ready to enter his partner.

            Maybe it was the spell, maybe it was the challenge of getting here, maybe it was simply the fact that Sam and his unique biology were forbidden fruit but it was the most mind-blowing sex of Gabriel’s life.  He collapsed on top of Sam when they were done, panting.  “That was incredible,” he admitted, kissing Sam again.

            Sam made a vaguely contented noise and ran his fingers through Gabriel’s hair, just once.  “Thank you for that,” he murmured after a moment.

            “Are you kidding?  I almost forgot about the spell for a minute.”  He withdrew carefully.  “How are you feeling?”

            “Sticky,” the giant told him with a chuckle.  “Sated.”

            “We don’t know if it worked.”

            A shadow passed over Sam’s face.  “Heka’s never steered us wrong before,” he said after a moment.  His face changed, got those lines back in it.  “I guess we’ll find out, but you said he seemed pretty confident.  I’m not worried.”  He paused for a moment.  “We should get back to Norway, I guess.”  His back was straight as he got out of the bed, his shoulders square.  “Thanks, Gabriel.”

            Funny.  He’d always pegged Sam for a post-coital cuddler, and Sam had seemed inclined in that direction for a minute or two.  Then he’d just closed up again.  Humans – Gabriel loved them, but he didn’t pretend to understand them.

            He snapped his fingers, cleaning and dressing them both in an instant.  The bed and bedclothes, which had suffered tremendously in the tussle, looked untouched.  A thought brought them back to the cabin in Jotunheimen.  Sam made polite small talk with both Gabriel and Lindsey before bidding both of his housemates good night and fleeing for his room.

            Whatever the emotional fallout from the encounter might have been – and neither Gabriel nor Lindsey pretended to understand that, not with Sam’s inability to talk about anything even remotely related to his own psyche – there was little doubt that Sam benefitted from the spell.  Gabriel took advantage of his abilities to take a quick peek into the young man’s dreams, and while he got a vague sense that his brother was trying to find a way in the devil had no success.  Sam still had nightmares, of course – he was who he was, he’d lived the life he’d lived and they would always be part of him.  But he wasn’t being hounded to self-negation during those nightmares, which could only be to everyone’s benefit.

            The results showed fruit quickly.  Sam’s mood improved.  “It’s amazing how much getting a decent night’s sleep can do for your disposition,” Lindsey commented when they discussed the matter, outside of Sam’s hearing of course.  He was more alert, more focused.  He moved with more purpose and more confidence, like he had a goal now.

            Now that they’d solved the Lucifer problem or at least one facet of the Lucifer problem, they were free to focus on the rings and what to do with them.   “He knows that Death isn’t on his side,” Sam informed them as they plotted one afternoon.  “So once we take out Pestilence he’s going to come after us with everything he’s got, no matter if he knows about the rings or not.”

            “That’s the truth,” Gabriel grimaced.

            “Wait – can he even win without the Horsemen in his pocket?” Lindsey queried excitedly.  “Maybe he’ll just give up and go home.”

            “No dice,” Sam told her.  “He’s bitter.  He resented humanity before; now he hates them.  And does he ever want a piece of Michael.”  He paused.  “I guess I can understand that, honestly.  He’s been in solitary for what, five thousand years?”

            “That’s just Earth time, buckarooni,” Gabriel pointed out.  “Time moves faster in Hell, but you knew that.  A month up here is a decade down there.  And the Cage – well, that moves differently than Hell.  Two to three minutes here would be….”  He did some calculations.  “I could be off – I’ve actively tried to not think about this for a long time now – but two to three minutes up here would be like, oh, a week in the Cage.”

            “Eesh.”  Lindsey shuddered.  “No wonder he’s so hateful.”

            “Yeah.  Of course, just because we can understand it doesn’t mean we don’t have to stop him.”  Could he have helped his brother?  Could he have stopped Michael from shutting him away?  Could he have found their Father and forced him – well, begged him – to bring Lucifer home?  “Anyhoo, let’s pretend we can get the rings all together in a nice little set.  We’ve got to find Luci and get him back into the box.”  He sighed.  “Maybe he didn’t need to be locked up before, but I think we can all agree that he can’t stay out anymore.  He’s not safe.”

            “He’s not just going to walk back in there,” Sam pointed out.  “I’ve convinced some people to do some pretty unbelievable things but that’s a little much.”  He gave a little half smile.

            “We’ll have to trick him,” Lindsey suggested.  “Haven’t you watched any Bugs Bunny cartoons?”

            “What, put a blanket over the entrance to the Cage and bait it with a wind-up she-devil?” Sam smirked.

            “I like it,” Gabriel laughed.  “Now all we need is to give you the great big mustache, like Yosemite Sam.”

            “That’s the only way I’m going to be shorter than you.”  He threw a piece of popcorn at the angel.  “So.  Ideas.”

            “I still like the trap idea,” Lindsey insisted, “but I have no idea how we’d bait it.  Somehow I don’t think Death is going to be all that keen to sit in a chair and flash his ankles, trying to lure Lucifer in.”

            Gabriel joined in the collective shudder.  “No, he’s always been kind of hands off.”  Come to think of it, Death could have just waved his hand and reaped Lucifer, solved the whole thing once Sam interfered with the binding.  He hadn’t.  Gabriel was sure He had a reason for it, but whatever it was He wasn’t sharing it.  “He doesn’t get worked up about things.  I guess He wouldn’t in his position.”  He looked up.  “I can call him out to a fight.  Push him in the hole.”

            “No,” the mortals both told him at the same time.  “I’m not risking you that way, Gabriel,” Lindsey insisted.  “He’s too… he’s too big.  And I know you were close once but I don’t think he cares anymore.  It’s been too long.”

            “It’s not personal,” Sam hastened to add.  “He doesn’t care about anything.  Anyone.  But he’s not going to hold back just because it’s you.”

            “All right then boy genius, you tell me your genius plan,” Gabriel snapped.

            Sam paused, weighing his words.  “His vessel is burning out.  I mean that literally, the poor guy is rotting around him.  We can lure him by letting him think I’m going to say yes.  At the last minute he gets put back in the box,” he finally said.

            Gabriel looked at him carefully.  “Sam, he’s not going to just waltz back in.”

            “I’ve got a few ideas that I want to flesh out before I put words to them,” Sam told him.  “Kick the tires a little more before I take them for a spin, if that makes any sense.”

            “You wouldn’t do anything stupid, would you?”  Lindsey bit her lip, looking from her lover to her friend.  “Because you can’t actually beat him, Sam.  He’s the Devil.  You’re pretty awesome, but you’re just a guy.”

            “I know.”  Sam flashed his dimples at her.  “Like I said, I’m mulling a few ideas over.  Want to figure out if they’re stupid or not before I make any decisions, you know?”

            Gabriel looked at him through narrowed eyes, but he didn’t say anything.  He had his suspicions about Sam’s “plans,” but he didn’t want to fight about them.  What would be the point?  Sam would deny them anyway.  Hopefully they could give Sam something to hold onto so that he didn’t feel compelled to offer himself that way.  “What about Michael?” he asked instead, tearing his eyes away from Sam.

            “What about him?”  The blonde snorted.  “Haven’t we got enough on our plates?  Aren’t Dean and his team supposed to be doing something about Michael?”

            “What can they do about him?” Sam pointed out gently, giant hand curling around a mug of tea.  “I mean sure they’ve got two angels on their team, but they’re just regular angels.”

            “Angels with waning powers,” Gabriel pointed out.  “Castiel is falling and I limited Anael’s abilities thanks to her exceptional hatred of my favorite antichrist.  Even if they were both at full power they wouldn’t be able to go up against Mikey though – they don’t have the juice to take on one archangel, much less two.”

            Sam shook his head.  “That doesn’t make a lot of sense though.  I mean, yeah, sure.  God created angels, He created a hierarchy, right?”  Gabriel nodded.  “But it’s not like he didn’t create you with free will.  I know that’s what some of you believe, but what was it – a third of the Host made the voluntary choice to follow Lucifer and leave Heaven?  And Anael chose to fall.”

            “So if God gave angels free will, He would have known that humans would have needed defending from them at some point,” Lindsey followed.  “It makes sense that there has to be some way for humans to be able to fight.”

            Gabriel considered.  “I haven’t heard of anything, nothing that would be available to you,” he said finally.  “Of course, I’m an archangel.  I probably wouldn’t have been intended to know something like that, now would I?”  He thought for another moment.  “Heaven does own some weapons.  Not a lot.  But it might be possible for a double agent to get in, steal something and get out.”  He held up a hand when he saw the brightened look on Lindsey’s face.  “I don’t know that it would be at all useful, but it’s something to consider.  Pass the suggestion along to Ellen, she can pass it along to Dean.”

            “I feel like I’m in summer camp again,” Lindsey complained.

            “I guess I could take you somewhere to make a call and you could just call Dean on the phone,” the angel offered sweetly.

            “Thanks, but we can stick with the telephone game instead,” she amended with a smile.

            Sam’s sour look was almost worth it.

*

            Dean got the message from Jo, who despite her deep and volubly expressed anger over his decision to go try to shoot Satan in the face with the now-missing Colt was still apparently willing to speak to him.  Her mother was not, but she was willing to pass notes.  This, Dean reflected, was why he’d left high school.  “So apparently Sam’s Trickster buddy thinks that there might be some weapons up in Heaven that could be used by humans,” she suggested.  “He thinks that someone might be able to get up there and steal them.”

            Dean dutifully passed on the message to Anna and Cas, because what the hell was he supposed to do about sneaking into Heaven to steal some kind of a divine shotgun?  Apparently as much as either of those two featherbrains, because they simply looked at each other.  “Be that as it may,” Cas intoned in his boring-as-crap voice, “that isn’t as helpful as Gabriel thinks it is.”

            “Why not?” Dean sighed.

            “Because Heaven is closed to me,” he replied.  “And were Anna to set foot in our home again it would turn out very badly for her.”

            “Not just for me,” she added, lips twitching.  “I have no doubt that Naomi would be able to eventually coerce the truth about Gabriel’s continued life from me.  That would endanger both him and your abomination of a brother.”

            “We talked about that, Anna,” he warned, but without heat.  He knew that it wasn’t her fault, not entirely.  No one knew that better than Dean.  “Look.  Maybe one of you knows someone, someone that you can trust.  I’m sure that not all of your little feather buddies were as goodie two-shoes as you like to make it seem.”

            Anna chuckled.  “What, do you mean like Balthazar?”

            “What’s a Balthazar?” Dean demanded, as Cas’ face grew drawn.

            “Anna, I regret being the bearer of bad news, but Balthazar perished after you fell, while you were human.  He is no more,” the angel in the trenchcoat informed his former superior.

            She tilted her head to one side.  “Are you entirely certain about that, brother?  He’s the one who helped me to build this body, no vessel required.  Helped me to find the ones who could help me build it, anyway,” she added.

            Dean tried to hold back his laughter, but only managed to keep it back to a hard chuckle.  After all, it wasn’t really funny that the poor guy had been deluded into thinking that a friend had been dead when it had really been no such thing, but at the same time the look on Cas’ face was priceless.  Somewhere between “poleaxed ox” and the fish in that Faith No More video.  “So this Balthazar guy, he’s a bit of a scoundrel?”

            “He was always fond of pleasures not entirely suited to a being of celestial intent,” Cas declared, glaring at both Dean and Anna as though they were personally responsible for this other angel’s deception.  “But he was a good and an honorable warrior.”

            “Why do you think he ditched the clouds and halo, then?”

            Anna stroked her hand across his shoulders.  “There are a number of reasons that an angel would want to escape.  Not all of us are suited to obedience, Dean.”

            He supposed that was true enough.  “Do you think he’d be able to do it?”

            “He was amply familiar with the weapons of Heaven,” Cas admitted.  “I don’t know if he would choose to commit theft against his own side.  I don’t even know how to find him.”

            As it turned out, Anna knew.  This involved a very involved ritual that included myrrh, holy water and definitely more of Dean’s blood than he’d signed on for, especially without warning.  He was even less on board for the sudden flight that brought them – unannounced and unprepared – to the backyard of some fancy-looking mansion in the Florida Keys.  “So much for the vow of poverty,” Dean muttered to his companions.

            “That’s Franciscans,” Cas corrected him.  “We are not priests.  We are angels.  We serve God, not religion.”

            Dean opened his mouth to ask what the difference was, but then thought better of it.  Cas might answer him.

            Anna led them through the shadows over to a rear door.  She lowered her head for a moment, and her eyes glowed blue.  Then she waited.

            After about a minute, a man appeared at the door.  He stood about six feet tall, give or take an inch, with wispy blond hair and cheekbones that seemed just way too prominent to be real.  “Anael.  Darling.  Or wait, my apologies.  It’s simply Anna now, isn’t it?” He held out his arms, and Anna stepped into his embrace with a joyful smile.  Dean felt his hands clench into fists, but he forced them to relax.  After all, she was going home with him.

            “Balthazar!” she exclaimed.  “It’s been a while.”  They parted after a moment, during which Dean reminded himself fifty-seven times that they needed this guy to get at the heavenly weapons and it would be rude to stab him.  “You remember Castiel, of course.”

            “How could I forget?”  His embrace of Cas was equally passionate.  So that’s how it was, Dean thought.  “Cassie.  It’s been forever.  I’ve missed you.”

            “And I you,” Cas replied stiffly.  “I mourned you, Balthazar.”

            At least this giant douche had the good grace to wince at that.  “I won’t pretend to regret leaving Heaven, but I’m sorry for any pain that it caused.  I couldn’t stay, Castiel.  There were things afoot, I couldn’t obey any longer.”  He looked Cas up and down, a little less lasciviously this time.  “And from the looks of it, you’ve come to the same conclusion although perhaps a bit more dramatically.”

            “Balthazar, we’ve come to you in the hopes that you can put us in the right direction,” Anna injected.  “We’re looking to stop our brothers from ending this planet.”

            “A noble goal, certainly, but how exactly do you plan to do that?”  Balthazar stroked his chin.  “I mean, they’re archangels.  They can shred us like chicken, especially once they get their hands on their true vessels.”

            “The vessels aren’t exactly on board with the plan,” Dean pointed out in what he thought was a perfectly reasonable tone.  “I’m no angel condom.”

            The angel sniffed.  “Oh, it speaks.  Dean Winchester, I presume.”  He stepped closer.  “How exactly do you intend to withstand Michael?  I know angels who can’t.  Why do you think I’m in hiding?  But you – mud monkey, I believe that’s the term, that you are – you think that you can just go on saying no.  He will kill everyone around you.  He will burn everything you’ve ever loved.”

            “I’m not going to let him have this planet,” Dean spat.  “It’s ours.  Not Lucifer’s.  Not his.”

            “Well, he’s stubborn.  I’ll give him that.” Balthazar turned away from Dean.  “What do you think that you can do, Anna?”

            “By ourselves?  Nothing.  Keep running and fighting a war of attrition.  There are other forces – pagan forces – working to fight Lucifer.”  That was an interesting way of putting it – technically correct, he supposed, just interesting.  “They’re keeping his vessel from him, and they’ve had some success against the Horsemen.  We might be able to fight Michael and Raphael more directly, or at least be able to defend ourselves against them, if we had some of what’s stashed away in Heaven’s armory.”

            Balthazar was quiet for a moment.  “What makes you think that I can get to anything in Heaven?”

            “Nothing,” Cas intoned.  “We wouldn’t ask you to risk yourself in such an enterprise.  We were simply hoping that you would know how to find someone who would.  Discretely,” he added.

            The asshole angel considered.  “I make no promises.  But I’ll talk to some of my less mundane contacts, see what I can do.”  He took Anna’s phone.  “I’ll call when I know something.”  

            Anna grabbed his arm, and the next thing Dean knew he was back in the abandoned house where they’d been squatting.  Cas excused himself for the evening, saying something about “finding his Father.”

            Anna grinned at him.  “Were you really jealous of Balthazar?”

            She’d known.  Of course she’d known.  Sometimes dating (or sleeping with, because calling it “dating” would probably jinx him) a girl with super powers had its down side.  “The guy was a major douche,” Dean groused.

            “Well, as long as he’s a helpful douche that’s fine.  But Dean – we’re monogamous.  And that’s okay.”  She kissed him then, and he felt some of the tension melt away from his body.

            For once, it felt like they were on a decent path.

 

 


	10. I Stretch My Arms Into the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean go on a trip. Then Dean and Gabriel take a trip. Both trips are kind of lacking in the warm fuzzy feeling department.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Temporary Character Death - Winchesters. Don't worry. They get better.

Gabriel considered the possibilities for getting Lucifer back into the Cage.  The list was short, far shorter than he liked.  There was main force, but face it – when it came to pure brute strength Gabriel was no match for Lucifer.  There was illusion – Lindsey’s idea of the clockwork rabbit might have been tongue in cheek but it had real merit.  The problem was that Lucifer wasn’t some dolt, some low-end mark just waiting to have the wool pulled over his eyes.  Gabriel might be a trickster god, and damn good at his job, but Lucifer had taught him a lot about illusion and trickery back before the fall.  Gabriel would need to do a lot of preparation and legwork before he would feel comfortable trying to pull one over on his big brother.

            Which left what?  Sam had some ideas, he’d said, but the idea that mere humans could somehow compel an archangel to do anything was laughable.  Okay, Gabriel himself had gotten exceptionally attached to humanity in general and to Lindsey and to Sam in particular.  He was an anomaly and he knew it.  Michael and Raphael felt only contempt and Lucifer?  Even his true vessel couldn’t hope to excite anything higher than possessiveness in him, painful as it was to admit.

            So what, exactly, could Sam have in mind?  Maybe he was working with Heka – the pair had struck up a lively and involved correspondence, and the ancient deity certainly knew things that Gabriel didn’t.  Maybe he had a few ideas that Lucifer wouldn’t have thought of, a few work-arounds.  Or maybe he knew someone who could do something about an all-powerful archangel.  Who knew?

            Lindsey continued to adapt to her new life.  He hadn’t been looking to take a new, entirely human lover and he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.  After all, she’d been a waitress when this whole thing started, living a perfectly normal and not terribly religious life.  The big freak-out never happened, though.  She dedicated herself to the fight against Lucifer with an enthusiasm that startled even Sam, simply because the Apocalypse was wrong and needed to be stopped.  And she took the whole archangel-in-my-bed thing in stride too; the not-human thing never bothered her, although she occasionally laughed to herself when she forgot that he didn’t sleep or snapped his fingers to take care of laundry.

            If someone had told Gabriel back when this whole thing started that he was going to be sharing his life with two mortals, one of whom he wasn’t even sleeping with, he would have laughed at them.  He’d probably have dropped them into Lake Van wearing a life jacket and nothing else, because nothing’s better for improving intelligence than a brisk swim through a massively salty and alkaline lake, but he’d have laughed at them.  Now he couldn’t imagine his life any other way.  Sure, there were little improvements he might want to make here and there.  Not having the threat of obliteration looming over them would be a big plus; getting Sam off this whole “can’t touch anyone I’m not clean” kick would be another one, because damn that man had some skills.  But on the whole, this was the life he wanted.  This was what he’d been looking for, when he’d turned his back on Heaven all those centuries ago.

            He wondered what his Father would think, if he could see him now.  His command had been to love His creation, after all.  Would He approve?  Or would He unmake Gabriel for blaspheming?

            Ultimately it didn’t matter.  Dad had taken off, gone out for the largest pack of cigarettes in the history of history, and He wasn’t coming back.  Speculating about His approval was about as useful as speculating about a future, because while the odds of winning this war had improved they still weren’t great.

            Of course, Gabriel was an archangel and he was a god.  Both entities were known for being somewhat possessive and distinctly protective of those they considered to be “theirs;” Gabriel was no exception whether he was calling himself Gabriel or Loki.  When Ellen reached out to Sam on Dean’s behalf, asking for his help with a case involving witchcraft, his hackles went right up.  “He’s got two angels backing him up and he wants you to go running to him?  Something’s not right here, Sam.”

            He hated seeing the light in Sam’s eyes dim a little.  “Maybe.  But Cas isn’t great with this kind of thing – I mean sure he’s fine with the fighting and the smiting, but he’s not so good with ferreting the witches out.  And at the end of the day he doesn’t actually know much about witchcraft.  I don’t know much about Anna’s knowledge base, but I can’t see why she’d pay much more attention to witchcraft than Cas had.”  He offered a wry grin that made Gabriel’s insides melt a little.  “It’s kind of unclean.”

            “That’s another thing,” Lindsey jumped in.  “I’m a little iffy on you jumping in to physically back your brother up when his girlfriend has a heavenly-induced compulsion to kill you.”  She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back a little.

            He rolled his eyes and grinned a little.  “It’s okay, guys.  She’s not going to do anything with him right there.  And hey – if she does, Lucifer can’t get to his true vessel.  So it’s not the end of the world.”  He held up his hands as both of his housemates’ faces darkened.  “But she won’t, because she’s smarter than that.  So it’s all going to be okay and we’re going to get through this.  They’re still waiting on some way of getting to Michael and Raphael; they need help with this case and I can provide it.  Bobby’s still in a chair and I’m… well, I’m not terrible at this part of it.  I don’t mind going in.  I’ll be fine.”

            Neither Gabriel nor Lindsey liked it, but they couldn’t exactly hold him prisoner.  Knowing Sam he’d find a teleportation spell and go on his own anyway.  So Gabriel flew him quickly to his brother’s side, leaving strict instructions that if a hair on his head was harmed everyone involved would wish that Michael and Raphael had gotten to them.  “They lack imagination,” he reminded them.  “I don’t.”

            Then he flew back to Norway.   He wasn’t needed in America at the moment, and running around with Dean risked drawing heavenly attention to himself.  Not to mention the two angels – his brother and sister, of course, and he loved them, but if he’d found Dean through tracing them how long would it be before other angels did the same thing?

            Besides, back in Norway he could focus on plans for Lucifer.  Maybe he could get away with confronting him if he didn’t try to kill him.  Maybe if he cut out his Grace… then he could possibly not have to return to that damned Cage and just live a human life, maybe recover something of the person he’d been when they’d been in Heaven and they’d been inseparable.  Of course, that was a long shot.  It was a longer shot than the clockwork rabbit.

            He turned his attention to the Cage itself – would it perhaps just pull the Devil back inside, like some kind of giant vacuum cleaner of evil?  It couldn’t be that easy.  Nothing ever worked like that.  But how to trick him inside?  Maybe the heavenly weapons were the key.  Lucifer had to be getting desperate, especially with two Horsemen eliminated and one outside of his control.  If he could plant the idea that he could gain some sort of advantage, suggest that the weapon was just “over there” and then open up the door to the Cage.  And then what?  Just… give a mighty shove and hope for the best?  He needed something more certain than that, but he started crafting simulations to practice the scenario anyway.  It was the best thing that they had so far, the most likely to work.

            “So what’s the plan for Heaven?  I mean, assuming we pull this off.”  Lindsey popped the question one night after they checked in with Sam.  Their hunt was going well, they were closing in on the witch and had taken out a handful of demons who seemed to be associated with the guy.  He said it was nice to be working with Dean again, even temporarily.

            “What do you mean?” he asked her, passing her a piece of pizza.  Pizza was absolutely one of the best inventions of humanity; no angel could have come up with that on their own.

            “Well, I mean, it seems like Michael was really keen to have this go down, right?  And Raphael too.  From the way Sam made it sound, Heaven was just as eager to make the world end as Hell was.  If all we do is cage up Lucifer, nothing’s going to change.  They’ll just change their focus back to getting him out, won’t they?”

            He sighed.  “The dream team stateside is supposed to be working on that, remember?”

            “No.  They’re supposed to be working on a plan to fight Michael and Raphael.  They’re not working on a plan for afterward.  Dean doesn’t strike me as the most forward thinking individual.”

            Gabriel chuckled.  “No.  No, you’ve got that right.  He just does or says the first thing that pops into his head, doesn’t he?”  He shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I just don’t.”

            “Do you think you might take over?”

            “Me?  Oh, hell no.  I’m not going back.  It’s been too long.  I’m not suited to Heaven anymore.  It’s where I come from, but it’s not home.”  Admitting it gave him a pang, but it was the truth.  “This, right here?  What the three of us have?  This is what I want.  And I don’t want to give this up to go become a penny-ante dictator for a bunch of dweebs who’ve had the humor and the life sucked right out of them.  I mean, have you seen those guys?  They’re all wearing suits now.  Suits!”

            She laughed, trailing off into a gentle smile.  “We really make you that happy, Gabriel?”

            “Absolutely, Lindsey.”  He swallowed.  “I love you.  You’re what my Father had in mind when he designed humanity.  You’re generous.  You care.  When you thought Sam was in trouble you showed up to help him, because you thought he needed help.  And when you thought he was in danger from me, you didn’t hesitate to stand right up to me even though you knew I was something supernatural, something powerful.  You did it because it was the right thing to do.”  He stroked her face.  “You keep fighting this with us, because… because you can and because you’ve chosen to.”

            “I’ve made some pretty bad choices, too,, though,” she countered.  “I’m not some kind of saint, Gabriel.”

            “Honey, you’re talking to a guy that reanimated mummies just to screw with archaeology students.  I’ve made bad choices too.  And so has Sam.  But you try.  You try to do the right thing, and for the most part you do.  It’s what makes you so amazing.”  He gave a little laugh.  “I don’t deserve you.  But I have you.”

            “What about Sam, though?” she challenged.  “I know he’s a challenge for you.  I thought you hated him, when we first met.”

            “I did.  Well, I wanted to.  I tried to.  I mean, his blood alone should’ve made me smite him on contact, but I didn’t.  I didn’t want to.  He tries too, you know?  And he’s so determined to fix this.  I think we can.  He made me think we can.  And he’s come up with some… unique solutions before, you know.  He’s amazing.”

            “Do you think we can do it?” she asked after a moment.

            He paused.  The odds were low.  “I think that if anyone has a chance, it’s us.  But I don’t think that we can afford to lose any of us.”

            So naturally – naturally! – the very next day he felt Sam die.

            He hadn’t expected that.  He loved Sam, of course, but love didn’t create the kind of bond that reached across an ocean to notify a lover when the object of his affections stopped breathing.  “The spell,” he recognized aloud, grabbing at his chest.  “It has to be.”

            “What’s wrong?” Lindsey demanded, rushing forward to grab his arms.  “What’s happening?”

            “It’s Sam!”  He looked into her eyes.  “He’s dead!  I – I felt it!”  Wrath rose up inside of him, equal in measure with his grief.  “We’re going to Indiana, Lindsey.”  He heard the growl in his own voice, he kind of hated it but this was Sam, someone had messed with his family and taken the man he and Lindsey loved away from them.  He’d never get the chance to try to bring Sam around, show him that he wasn’t too tainted or whatever to be loved, never get the chance to help him heal from everything that had been done to him.

            It took him nine one-hundredths of a second to get a lock on Castiel’s fading grace.  It took less time to fly there.  He landed in a motel room that added a whole new dimension to the term “seedy,” littered with bottles and beer cans.  Lindsey wrinkled her nose even as her eyes took in the bodies on the beds.

            In death, the brothers couldn’t have been more different.  Dean looked more like what Gabriel expected from a dead human.  His eyes were frozen at half-mast, his hands flung out to the sides.  His face seemed to have been frozen in a snarl.  Sam, by contrast, lay back on the pillow with his eyes fully closed.  His hands were up near his head; he’d raised them in surrender, then.  He hadn’t fought.  Still, his face was perfectly composed.  He looked peaceful, happy.  At least he would have looked peaceful and happy if it weren’t for the fact that his chest had been turned into hamburger; that wasn’t a good look for him.

            He wheeled around on the two angels before him.  “What did you do?” he bellowed, and the whiskey bottles exploded.

            “This wasn’t us, Gabriel,” Anael insisted, stepping between Gabriel and Castiel.  “We were out looking for clues in the search for our Father when we heard Dean pray.”  One corner of her mouth quirked up.  “Had we wished to kill them, we wouldn’t have used shotguns.”

            “I have spoken with Dean,” Castiel assured him.  “His soul is in Heaven.”

            “Well that’s just fan-fucking-tastic, jackass,” Gabriel spat.  “It’s great that you can be so calm about Golden Boy here being dead because his soul’s in fucking Heaven, but I’m not here about Dean.  Dean is not my concern.”  Lindsey put a hand on his arm; he barely felt it.  “I’m here for Sam.”

            “Sam will be in Heaven too,” the dark-haired angel pointed out after a moment’s confusion.

            “You’re joking,” Lindsey snorted.  “You’ve spent all this time telling him how he’s not even human, how tainted he is, but now you want us to believe that they’re just going to let him waltz right through the Pearly Gates?”

            Anael smirked.  “I may not approve, but apparently being the true vessel to an archangel gets you a free pass into Heaven.  No matter how polluted you may be.”  She glanced at Sam’s still, cold form.  “Dean hadn’t found him yet, but I’m confident that he’ll reach his brother soon.”

            Gabriel felt the hilt of his sword fall into his hand.  “You were supposed to protect them.  Protect _him,_ ” he seethed.  “If I were you, I’d try to remember that it’s Sam who has the friendly feelings toward you.  Not me.”  He turned away from her and began to gather his grace.

            “Gabriel, calm yourself,” Castiel urged.  “Or have you forgotten so quickly?”

            Lindsey released her hold on Gabriel’s arm.  “What exactly is it that you think that he’s ‘forgotten?’” she demanded, moving over to Sam’s still corpse.  She moved his hands down, arranging them over his chest so that it was less obvious that he’d fallen like that.

            “Sam can’t die.”  The angel’s tone was insistent, intense.  His eyes glazed over and his attention seemed divided.

            “He looks pretty dead to me, asshole,” she growled.  “Maybe you can survive a gigantic hole in the chest, but us mortals?  Not so much.”

            “Lindsey,” Anael tried, moving over to the blonde and putting an arm around her shoulder.  “Sam volunteered some information, while he was with us.  He told us that Lucifer won’t let him die, not permanently.  A deceased vessel can’t give consent, after all.  It’s reasonable to assume that Michael will give the same gift to Dean.”

            “It’s not a gift,” Gabriel pointed out, teeth grinding together.  “Not to Sam, anyway.”  He forced his jaw to unclench.  “When we get him back, this is the last time I send him to you people without protection.  Do you understand?  You can’t be trusted with him.  You keep trying to kill him, Dean and Castiel go off half-cocked and he almost dies pulling their fat out of the fire, you can’t even keep him safe from a couple of rednecks with a damn shotgun –“

            “Dean has found Sam,” Castiel reported.  “I have directed them to follow the Axis Mundi.”

            “Wait, what?”  Gabriel put his hands on his hips, shocked out of his wrath for just a moment.  “You’re sending them farther into their heavens?  No – no no no.  We can’t fight the Apocalypse without them.  What are you thinking?”

            “I’m thinking that this is possibly our best bet to get someone into Heaven, into the Garden, to get us some clues in the search for our Father,” Castiel insisted stubbornly.  “This is a fantastic opportunity, brother.  We shouldn’t waste it.”

            Both Gabriel and Lindsey gaped.  “You realize that every angel in Heaven is hunting for them right now,” he pointed out.  “Everyone trying to force a ‘yes’ out of them is on their tails.  Tracking them through territory that the angels know how to navigate, and that the boys have never seen before.  When they catch them,” he continued, catching both angels’ eyes, “they will make everything that either of you have endured in Heaven’s prisons look like Paradise in comparison.”

            “You’ve delivered them right into the enemy’s hands,” Lindsey whispered, snaking out from under Anael’s arm and pressing her hands to her mouth.  “Oh, poor Sam!”

            “The opportunity to find our Father was too precious,” Castiel insisted.  “Gabriel, it’s our Father.  Besides.”  He looked away.  “Dean agreed to it, when we spoke.”

            More bottles exploded.  “You didn’t even bother to check with Sam?” he raged.  “You just plunged him into something like that – you shoved him into Michael’s waiting arms – without getting his permission?”

            “He should think of himself as lucky to be in Heaven at all!” Anael threw back.  “He doesn’t get to pick and choose how he serves the cause!”

            Even Castiel looked a little shocked at that.  “It is usually Dean who makes the executive decisions in their family,” Cas informed them, glancing uneasily at his sister.  “In all armies, someone has to lead and someone has to follow.  Sam seems content to be the subordinate; his decision-making abilities have been called into question.  But perhaps I should have gotten his consent as well.  At any rate, it is too late now.”

            “Not for me,” Gabriel told him bluntly.  “This is bad.  This is very bad.  I’m going to have to go in there – reveal myself, entirely – because of your screwed up drive to go running to Daddy to try to make things better.”

            “It’s not a ‘screwed up drive,’ Gabriel!” the falling seraph shouted, slamming a hand down on the nightstand beside Dean.  “Our Father can fix this!”

            “He can but He won’t!” Gabriel shouted back.  “When are you going to get it through your head that Dad’s gone?  He’s not coming home.  Whether He can’t or He won’t, he’s not interested in pulling us out of this one.  You can’t go breaking the tools He gave us to do the job just because you want Him to do it for you!”

            “He’s our Father!” Castiel stood right in Gabriel’s space, trying to intimidate him.

            “And He left the building a long time ago.  Now you’re letting those boys suffer because you can’t handle it.”

            The argument – which ran the risk of becoming violent – was cut short when Sam’s body jerked.  He gasped, a terrible sound as his empty lungs fought to regain what they’d lost during his death.  His eyes, wide and wild now, could have flooded the room with sorrow.

            Heaven was supposed to be a place of rest, of refuge and joy.  No human should return from Heaven with such a look in their eyes.

            Gabriel knocked Anael out of the way as he raced to Sam’s side.  He didn’t care who was watching, he just needed Sam.  He threw his arms around the larger man and pulled his mouth down onto his, only able to convey what he needed to say through the exchange of breath and saliva.  It took Sam a split second to catch up, but once he did he responded with tenderness.  The angel felt Lindsey’s arms slide along his own, noticed her blonde hair as it tickled his wrists and knew he had to let her have a turn.

            When the mortals came up for air Gabriel grabbed Sam’s attention again, gripping his chin in one hand.  “You were dead, Sam,” he rasped into that haunted face.  “You died.”

            “I, uh, I got that,” Sam murmured, looking down.  Lindsey hadn’t managed to pull herself back from Sam yet.  Instead she’d wrapped her arms around him even tighter, plastering her body against his newly whole torso and laid her head against his back and shoulder.

            “No, Sam,” Gabriel hissed.  “I don’t think you do.  I felt you die.”

            “I’m sorry, Gabriel.”  He didn’t lift his eyes up from the bloody duvet.

            “Not your fault, Sam.  We’re not going to let it happen again, though.”

            Over on the other bed, Dean was experiencing his own return to the world of the living.  Anael gently took him into her arms and held him to her; much to Gabriel’s surprise, the hunter allowed it, going limp against her and closing his eyes for a moment.  “I gotta say,” he said after those few seconds of respite.  “That is so much better than the last time I came back to life.  It’s not much of a motel room but it’s better than digging myself out of my own grave.”  He got up off the bed and stripped off the bloody shirt he’d been wearing.  “We need to get moving; I’m sure Zachariah and company will be heading our way soon.”

            Gabriel wasn’t oblivious to the way that Dean studiously avoided looking at his brother.  Castiel, on the other hand, didn’t seem interested in Winchester family dynamics as he strode over to the dresser and started digging for a new shirt.  “Dean,” the former garrison commander began.  “Dean.  Were you able to make it as far as the garden?”

            Dean closed his eyes for a moment.  Under his hands, Gabriel felt Sam tense up.  “Yeah.  Yeah, we did, Cas.”

            “Did you speak with Joshua?  Did he tell you where to find God?”

            The hunter cleared his throat.  This time, before Dean spoke, Sam took Gabriel’s hand in his own and gave it a comforting squeeze.  “Um.  God did speak.  To this Joshua fellow.  Apparently he told Joshua that, uh, he’s aware of what’s going on and that he doesn’t think it’s his problem.”  He gave a thin smile.  “I’m sorry, Cas.  I know it’s not what you wanted to hear.”

            It was exactly what Gabriel had told him, but it still hurt to see the devastation on his brother’s face.  “Not his problem,” the younger angel repeated.

            “I guess he’s got other things going on or something.”  He shrugged.  “Something about his children needing to grow up and do things for themselves.  I don’t even know, man.”

            Castiel was silent for a good minute before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a brass amulet on a leather thong.  Gabriel recognized it as the necklace Dean used to wear, actually an ancient artifact that supposedly indicated the presence of his Father.  Sam had given it to Dean, and for almost two decades it had been a symbol for their relationship.  “You may have this back now, Dean,” he said in a dead voice.  “I don’t need it anymore.  It’s worthless.”

            Dean took the object, staring at it.  Sam held his breath, rising from the tangle of bodies in the bed as Cas flew away.  “Dean,” he said in his soft voice.  “Dean, we can still stop all this.  Finding God wasn’t part of the plan to derail this.”

            Dean’s face drew up into a mocking sneer.  “Oh yeah?  How?”  He caught Sam’s eye and held it.

            No one moved.  No one made a sound for a good thirty seconds.  Then Dean, still holding Sam’s eye, tossed the amulet into the garbage can, grabbed his duffel bag and walked out the door.  Anael followed him, throwing a troubled glance back at Gabriel’s team.

*

            Dean knew, when he threw away the amulet, that he was hurting his brother.  He regretted it as soon as he walked out the door; Anna’s commentary about burning bridges as they got into the Impala didn’t help.  He’d been angry, and he’d been hurt, and he’d lashed out at the kid.  Oh, sure, Sammy didn’t have any control over what showed up in his Heaven.  Of course he didn’t, no one did.  But seriously, he’d gone to Hell for the kid and not only were all of his good memories of things that weren’t family, but they were of actively getting away from family.  That was wrong, just wrong.

            He wound up going over to Bobby’s to regroup; he hated leaning on the old man like this when the guy had lost so much, but he desperately needed something familiar around him right now.  Bobby insisted that he didn’t mind; it was nice to have him and Anna around the place, and Castiel when he showed up.  He could use Dean’s help around the place sometimes, and it would be good to catch up on things.

            The first day, though, he just lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.  He felt kind of stupid for doing it – after all, how could he really be relying on God?  Seriously, Dean Winchester becoming a man of faith?  In God?  Sammy had been the one who was Mr. Prayer, Mr. Bible.  Of course that was before angels had raised him up and out of Hell.  And the whole thing was just so hopeless – how were they supposed to stop the Apocalypse without God’s direct help?

            The second day he was able to go and interact with Bobby.  Bobby had always been willing to provide a sympathetic ear, so he listened when Dean told him about the witch and about the demons.  He’d been the one to suggest working with Sammy, after all, and he wasn’t at all surprised that Sammy’d found some new tricks up his sleeve when it came to dealing with the things.  He was apparently living with Loki now – everyone agreeing that keeping Gabriel’s identity a secret was in the best interests of stopping the Apocalypse – and Loki knew things.  “The guy probably knows things outside of the usual Judeo-Christian framework, Dean.  He probably knows other people who know things outside that framework too.”  For a moment the scholar looked a little jealous.

            Dean wondered if he should tell Bobby that Sammy was apparently sleeping with Loki too, sharing his body with the monster that had killed his brother a thousand times over or whatever it had been.  That kiss had not been chaste, and for all that Gabriel had initiated Sam had responded.  He decided against it; the likelihood of Sammy coming back was about zero and besides, it wasn’t his tale to tell.  If he hadn’t known Sammy was into guys, it was a sure bet that he wasn’t out to Bobby.

            Of course, considering the kid’s Heaven, maybe that wasn’t the case after all.  Maybe Dean was the last to know.

            Castiel showed up about three days after he emerged from his seclusion.  It was three days after that before Gabriel finally came to them.

            Dean expected that he’d come to ream out the angels for not keeping Sam safe.  He’d wondered about the protectiveness, it wasn’t like the kid could die permanently, right?  But if Gabriel wanted to get all alpha-male about Sammy that was what it was.  If he was going to keep evading Dean’s attempts to keep an eye on him, then at least someone was going to do it.  So he figured Gabriel would come to pluck a few feathers over Sammy.  Maybe even yell at him a bit about Sam, because yeah he should’ve kept Sammy from getting ganked (again), not that he hadn’t gotten himself killed in the bargain.

            Instead he’d simply looked at Cas and Anna, looked at Bobby and grabbed Dean’s arm.  “Excuse us,” he said with one of those smarmy grins he was always throwing around, and then with a snap of his fingers he moved Dean someplace else.

            The apartment was plain, utilitarian.  The curtains were drawn.  There was nothing to indicate a location; it was even climate controlled.  “Where the hell are we?” he demanded, rounding on the dick.

            “Someplace private.”  Gabriel leaned back against the wall and put a lollipop in his mouth.  “Someplace where we can talk.  Alone.”

            “I don’t think we’ve got much to talk about,” Dean objected.  “I’m sure Sammy’s already filled you in on all the details about our time in Heaven.  Not that you can trust anything he says, because he told us he wasn’t sleeping with you and we all saw that was bullshit.”

            “He wasn’t.”  Gabriel’s voice dripped with malice.  “We did once, for ritual purposes.  To keep Lucifer out of his dreams.  That was before your little stunt there after Heaven.”

            Dean knew that he tended to lash out when he was hurt; this was no exception.  “Oh, so Heaven got him laid.  Nice.  I’m glad some good came out of it.”

            Searing pain ripped through every nerve cell in his body for ten seconds.  “You lashed out at him about what you saw in his Heaven, then you rejected the tangible symbol of your relationship.  What were you thinking, you absolute nincompoop?”  Eyes the color of whiskey glittered in the artificial light.

            “Oh.  Nice that you’re all concerned about poor little Sammy’s precious little feelings about our relationship.  News flash for you, pal, he doesn’t give a crap, alright?”  He got up into Gabriel’s face, poking the smaller man in the chest.  “Every memory in his Heaven was about getting away from us.  From me.  And I’m supposed to rely on him?  It was supposed to be the two of us against the world.  I went to Hell for him, I just got shot because of him, and there he is not even caring about his family!”

            “You just don’t get it.”  Gabriel grinned, ancient and inhuman, and the agony ripped through him again.  “He wasn’t in any of your memories either, asshole.”

            “Of course he was!” Dean yelled.

            “Did he see them?”

            Dean had to catch himself.  “It doesn’t matter.”

            “It does to him.  He’s been controlled and dicked around his entire life, especially by family.  He had to stand there and watch while you got to relive a loving, caring mother.  Who sold him to a demon, but who’s counting, right?”  He laughed darkly.  “He loves you, Dean.  He worries about you, he believes in you.  All this time he’s been so careful to say, ‘I just want to help Dean in the ways that I can.  From here.’  You’ve been pushing him away, rejecting him, but you think he’s going to have good memories of family?  And now you’ve trashed the good memories he did have, the ones that made up his heaven.”  He shook his head.  “You basically trashed his Heaven, Dean.  The next time he goes up there, it won’t exist.”

            “You’re full of crap, Gabriel.”  He snorted.  “If he gave a crap about me he wouldn’t have left.”

            “You made it pretty clear what your real feelings were.”  He sighed.  “Look.  Dean.  I’m not here to play family counselor.  I’m not trying to get the two of you back together.”

            “Then why are you here, man?  Because I’m not rolling over for you.  Wrong brother.”

            “Not my type, Dean-o.  Besides, my two partners back at home make me very happy.”  He gave that nasty smile again.  “The way you treat Sam, though, is making Lucifer’s job easier.  See, my charming brother, when he was still able to get into his head in his sleep, used to like to remind him of every little rejection.  Every time you tried to keep him down, every time you called him a freak or a monster.  That ‘pick a hemisphere’ line?  Awesome work, by the way.”

            “Dude.  Sammy makes his own choices.”  Dean sneered.  “They’re just usually bad ones.  He needs me to keep an eye on him.”

            The world’s loudest buzzer rang through the apartment, making Dean jump.  “Wrong!  Try again!”  Gabriel gave another one of his cheesy grins.  “He’s made some bad choices, sure.  Who hasn’t?  Why don’t we start with ‘going to Hell because you couldn’t face being alone?’  Because that’s exactly what you left Sam to.  Look.  I get that you’re angry with Sam.  It’s fine.  You have that right.  But you are literally driving him straight to Lucifer.  Lindsey and I are doing as much as we can to counter you, but you’re not making it any easier.”

            “So let him go,” Dean muttered.  “He’s going to give in eventually.”   He looked down for a moment, but then made himself meet Gabriel’s eyes head on.

            “Excuse me?”

            “Come on, you know it.  He can’t resist temptation.  He’s angry, he’s resentful.  Proud.  Needy.  Lucifer’s going to play him like a fiddle.  Just… let him go.  Get it over with.  It’ll hurt less.”  He blinked.

            Gabriel looked like he’d just taken a big bite of something unpleasant.  “Did it really feel that good to say it, Dean?”

            “Yeah.  It did.”  He nodded.  “It really did.  I didn’t want to think it, I didn’t want to believe it.  But after Heaven?  I mean, it’s true.”

            “Alright.  You’re in Encinitas.  Good luck getting back to South Dakota.”  The archangel disappeared, leaving Dean stranded and alone.

 

 


	11. I'm Gonna Tear, Tear Them Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Trickster pays a visit to the home of the Jolly Green Giant. Dean makes a choice.

Sam tried to be stoic when they got back to Norway, and someone who hadn’t spent over a quarter of a century watching the guy probably would have bought the act.  Gabriel knew better.  So he and Lindsey basically herded Sam into bed, and Sam didn’t object when they put their hands on him.  He even responded, and if his eyes remained shadowed he definitely didn’t lack for passion or enthusiasm as he gave them pleasure.  Indeed, he showed the same dedication to their enjoyment as he did to his training or to his research.

            He wasn’t “okay,” but he seemed to be doing better.  Under the circumstances, it was about as much as Gabriel and Lindsey could ask for.

            They worked on the various traps for Lucifer, Sam researching with zeal.  They trained.  Sam didn’t talk about his family, and no one brought them up.  Gabriel paid a visit to Dean, one that pissed him off to such an extent that he just dumped the guy in southern California and let him make his own way back to Bobby Singer’s place.  He should’ve considered himself lucky that he didn’t dump him in Namibia.

            It only took a couple of weeks after the whole mess with Heaven before Sam was sitting at his laptop and shaking his head again.  “Heka sent some interesting news,” he announced, setting his coffee down and gazing at his screen with even more intensity than usual.

            Sometimes Gabriel entertained himself by trying to think of vacant godhoods to which his lovers could be elevated.  Sam would make an excellent candidate for a god of scholarship somewhere, and his statues could all be made with that identical expression of “My laptop will eventually give me all I need to know.”  “Are we taking another trip to Egypt, Sammy-bear?” he asked mildly.  “Because I’ve got to say, you’re both going to stick out like sore thumbs in Asyut.”

            “Good thing we’re going to Minnesota then,” the scholar retorted, doing something complicated with his eyebrows.  “Someplace I used to spend quite a bit of time, actually.  Blue Earth, Minnesota.”

            “Isn’t there a great big statue of the Jolly Green Giant?” Lindsey mused, running her hands through Gabriel’s hair.  He almost purred.

            “They erected it in honor of Sam after he hit his growth spurt,” the angel teased.  “What they didn’t tell anyone was that it was really in honor of his cock.”

            Sam blushed and looked down, but he also grinned large enough to show dimples and that was what Gabriel had been after.  Those dimples could conquer empires.  “Anyway,” he emphasized, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear, “from what Heka is telling me it looks like the town is getting besieged by demons on a regular basis.  Like, seriously getting besieged.  Multiple demons, on a regular basis.”  He shook his head.  “I can’t think how they’re repelling the things.”

            “Hunters?” Lindsey offered.

            Sam shook his head.  “When we were kids my dad used to dump us on the local Catholic priest, Jim Murphy.”  He offered a distant, fond smile.  “Pastor Jim was fantastic.  He taught me Latin.  Made me feel like a person, you know?  Instead of luggage.  But he died – Meg killed him four years ago.  There weren’t any other hunters in town.  Jim was bad-ass, and he couldn’t hold off one demon of Meg’s caliber.”  His nose wrinkled, possibly of its own accord.  “There aren’t so many hunters in the world that I’d expect one to just… pop into Jim’s old home without us finding out about it, you know?”

            “Sam’s right; if there are enough demons to qualify as a ‘siege’ one hunter wouldn’t be enough to hold them off,” Gabriel determined.  He snapped his fingers, generating a plate of individual quiches.  Out of deference to Sam’s preferences, one third of them contained broccoli.  “No, something else is going on there.  What I don’t understand is the strategic importance of Blue Earth Freaking Minnesota.  I mean, it’s the definition of small town America, you know?”

            “Food supply?” Lindsey shrugged.  “I mean, they put up that abstract statue of Sam for a reason, right?  Plus, I think it’s the exact center of I-90.  It gives them control of a major cross-country highway.”

            Gabriel blinked at her.  “Why do you know that?”

            “Sam’s mentioned Blue Earth a few times.  I looked it up a couple of times.”  She winked at Sam.  “You piqued my curiosity when we first met, Sam.  That never went away.”

            He huffed a little and looked away.  “Okay.  So something’s fighting these demons off.  Heka’s stumped.  And I have to admit, I’m intrigued.  Whatever it is, if it’s fighting demons it’s probably one of the good guys, right?  Heka says that it’s not anything angelic.  Says his sources would know.”

            “Okey-dokey,” Gabriel agreed.  “We can check it out.  I’m a little nervous – I mean, we’re literally walking into a town under siege.  But hey, it’s not like I can’t get us out again, right?”

            Everyone grabbed their things and Gabriel flew them to the Jolly Green Giant statue.  It seemed like a good enough place to land – it was an easy enough landmark to find, after all.  They started walking quickly toward the main part of town, hoping to find a hotel that was open.  They expected to get attacked quickly – after all, they weren’t here on vacation.  They weren’t expecting the attack to come within ten minutes of hitting the road.

            Gabriel also hadn’t expected quite so many demons to come at them, either.  There must have been thirty of them, all descending on them at once.  He could have blasted them all into greasy, smoky smears on the pavement of course, but that would attract the wrong kind of attention.  He was limited to stabbing them with his sword, and even that might be suspicious.  Hopefully this wouldn’t put Lindsey or Sam in danger.

            He and Sam fought back to back, with Lindsey between them.  The blonde chanted an exorcism as Sam held a liberated angel sword in one hand; he’d have a similar problem to Gabriel, of course.  He wasn’t necessarily concealing his identity as a renegade archangel, but he still needed to stay incognito.  He mouthed exorcisms, of course, and he stabbed out in his way.

            Fortunately a fire truck, one of the pump trucks with a tank and everything, came screaming up the road.  Other emergency vehicles came with it; another fire truck, and an ambulance just in case, and a few cop cars.  One of the cop cars had a loudspeaker, and from that loudspeaker blared some kind of recorded Latin exorcism.  The exorcism sounded strange to Gabriel’s ears, and based on the way Sam’s eyebrows knit together he hadn’t heard it before either.  Either that or they were trying to become a pair of socks, Gabriel wasn’t sure.  It was still Latin, though, and still some kind of exorcism, or some kind of poetry designed to induce demons to depart back to the place from whence they came anyway.

            Either way the exorcism must have been effective, because the demons fled their hosts and the surviving victims collapsed, groaning, to the ground.  One of the firefighters approached the trio, hand extended, as his colleagues doused the survivors with water from the truck at a low pressure.  The pump truck was filled with holy water, Gabriel recognized.  “How you doing?” the fireman greeted, offering his hand to Gabriel first.  “I’m Matt Schaefer, from the Sacrament Lutheran Militia.  Welcome to Blue Earth.”

            “Gabe Laufreyson,” he introduced, shaking firmly.  “This is my brother Sam and my wife, Lindsey.”  Somehow he didn’t think that people who included their  religion in the name of their super-special armed club would be open-minded about the nature of their relationship.  He could be wrong – there were some religious folk out there with open and reasonable minds.  He wasn’t willing to bet the operation on it, though.  He indicated the host bodies who hadn’t made it.  “Our car died a while back, we figured we’d hoof it to the next town.  Looks like we maybe should’ve called AAA instead.”

            Matt laughed easily.  “Nah.  Blue Earth’s the safest place in America right now, buddy.  Besides, it looks like you’re more than able to take care of yourselves.”

            “We do alright,” Lindsey smiled.  “Thirty demons for three hunters might be pushing it.”

            “Yeah, well, we try not to go out of town in small parties anymore,” he admitted.  “Come on, let’s get you situated with a place to stay and let you clean up.  I’m sure you’ll want to meet Pastor Gideon, and I know he’s going to want to meet you.  Three more experienced hunters – that’s going to make everyone’s lives better.”

            They did get a ride into town.  Gabriel wanted a ride on the fire truck, but his lovers both hissed that that was “inappropriate, Gabe,” and “you’re not five, Gabe.”  They rode in one of the police cruisers instead, getting an escort directly to an old-fashioned type of hotel right in the center of town.  The manager gave them two rooms, although they connected.  “It’s not like we don’t have the room,” the matronly redhead informed them with a sigh.  “I guess there’s not a lot of travel for business or pleasure during the Apocalypse.”

            “I suppose not,” Sam agreed with a little smile.  “So is that what you think this is – the End of Days?”

            “Oh, sure,” she smiled.  “But don’t you worry.  Here in Blue Earth we’ve got what we need to be saved.  We’re going to get through this just fine.”  She patted his hand reassuringly.  “You’re in the safest place on Earth, son.  Just you be sure to come to services tonight, you’ll see.”   

            He gave her a polite smile and the trio retreated to their rooms.  “Services,” Sam grimaced.  “I’ll just… I don’t know, wait for the lightning bolt.”

            Gabriel kissed him deeply, hoping to cleanse the self-loathing from his mouth with his own tongue.  “Sam, you _bless_ holy water.  You aren’t going to get zapped for walking into a church.  Besides, you’re fucking an angel.”

            “Getting fucked by, usually,” Lindsey corrected, circling around to wrap her arms around them both.  “I’m not a huge fan of the whole idea of hanging around in church myself but whatever.  It sounds like we need to do it to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on around here.  I mean, as near as I can tell everyone’s a hunter.  Everyone in this whole town is a hunter.  They’re even all wearing plaid.”

            “Yeah, that’s creepy as heck.”  Gabriel nodded.

            Sam shook his head.  “Not a lot of hunters are religious.  Pastor Jim, Kubrick, I guess – but most of them are more like Dean or my dad.  They’re willing enough to use the trappings of religion to get the job done, but they’re not into living by anyone else’s rules.  The whole ‘no killing’ thing gets a little awkward.  Same with the ‘no stealing.’  And most hunters drink like fish.”

            The archangel made a face.  “You’ve got a good point.  Hunters are some of the most dysfunctional people on the planet.  Even the ones who have a home don’t exactly do ‘community’ well.  We’re going to need to go and see what’s up, though.  Besides, it’s going to look weird if we don’t go.  The last thing we need in a town of strictly religious folk is to stand out more than a bunch of newcomers already do.”

            They did go to church that night; as Gabriel had both feared and expected, attendance was universal.  The entire town shut down for the evening service, with the exception of the sentries.  Attendees arrived with their weapons in hand, they brought their children, but they showed up.

            Pastor Gideon, though – he was nothing that Gabriel expected.  He didn’t talk about obedience, he didn’t moan and groan about brimstone and hellfire.  He talked about community, about working together and staying safe.  He talked about the milestones reached by the community since Sunday – they’d celebrated two weddings in those few days, and announced five engagements.  They’d had four skirmishes on the outskirts of town without losing anyone, not a soul, and they’d taken in fifty people who had been recovered from possession.  Finally, they’d been met by three strangers with experience fighting demons; truly the Lord was smiling on them this week.

            The pastor came to speak with them after the service – Matt insisted on introducing them personally, but Gabriel got the impression that the clergyman would have wanted to meet them anyway.  He probably knew all of his congregants personally, right down to coffee preferences, the angel thought sourly.  “So you’re hunters?” he asked them with a big, open smile that had nothing of deception about it.

            “Uh, yeah,” the putative patriarch of their little family dissembled.  “We are.  Family business, I guess you could say.  Lindsey’s a little newer at it, but she holds her own.”  He wrapped his arm around his “wife’s” waist.

            “Well that’s fantastic.  I can’t imagine being raised in it – that must have been a scarring life for you.  I guess it’s good experience to have in times like these, though.”  He put a hand on Sam’s arm, reassuring and gentle.

            Sam smiled gently.  “Forgive me, Pastor.  If you didn’t grow up in the life, how is it that you were able to organize the entire town into a hunting community?  The community didn’t even know much about demons, as a whole, until a couple of years ago.”

            “You make a great point, Sam.  Two years ago I was pretty happy just organizing the coffee rotation and writing sermons.  Demons were things that disturbed people talked about, or people who didn’t want to take responsibility for their actions.  Oh, it wasn’t me who killed those people – a demon made me do it.”  He chuckled lowly.  “Now I kind of feel like maybe I should’ve listened.  But not long after I got the job here in Blue Earth we were very lucky.  We were chosen.  We were given an inside scoop, a cheat sheet to the Apocalypse.”  He grinned widely.  “Now we know how to defend ourselves and our loved ones, as a community of believers.”

            “That’s such a blessing,” Lindsey gushed.  Gabriel could not have been more grateful for the woman’s quick thinking; she covered up his snort.  “Honestly, it’s incredible that you’re able to do that for each other.  If there’s something that I’ve learned about hunting it’s that hunting can be a lonely life a lot of the time.  Can I ask what this ‘inside scoop’ is?  Is it just a really old copy of _Revelations_?”

            The pastor ‘s mouth widened in laughter.  “Oh, no.  I wish – although I’d hate to risk a rare holy book in a situation like this.  I guess it doesn’t matter at the end of the day, but still – the thought of an ancient text getting destroyed in a demon attack just makes my skin crawl.”  Sam nodded in sympathy, flashing a quick grin in scholarly solidarity.  “No, we’ve got a prophet – my daughter, Leah.  Angels give her the information we need and we act on it.  It’s how we knew to come find you all.”  He smiled again.  “I’m sure you’re all tired.  Why don’t you come out on patrol tomorrow, come see how it all works?  I’m sure you’ll have plenty of tips and suggestions, ways to do things that are a lot more efficient than we’ve thought of.”

            The trio made their way back to the hotel, where they retreated to their rooms.  “Angels,” Lindsey winced.  “It’s time to get out of here.”

            “I don’t know about that,” Gabriel demurred.  “I’m not feeling anything about this that’s screaming ‘Heavenly Host,’ and my brothers tend to leave a feather trail everywhere they go.  During the run-up to the Apocalypse they were more than happy to let humans do the heavy lifting, but after kickoff they pretty much stopped thinking about anything made of flesh and bone at all.”

            Sam pursed his lips.  Gabriel had felt him flinch when he’d mentioned the run-up to Lucifer’s release, but he’d probably always do that no matter what.  “You’re right,” he agreed.  “I mean, something about this still really doesn’t add up but I’m not sure that it’s angels.  I mean, first of all Heka didn’t get an impression of angelic involvement, and he’d have been looking for that.”

            “If Gabriel can hide who he is couldn’t another angel?” Lindsey challenged, leaning back into the tall man.

            “Sure,” the angel replied, resting his head on her lap.  “I’m just better at it.  But that’s not the point.  If they’re actually working for Michael, they’d be fighting directly and not working through these poor people.  And here’s the thing, Leah’s not a prophet.”

            “She’s not?” the mortals queried in unison, identical expressions of confusion on their faces.

            “No.  The names of the prophets are written on each angel’s brain long before their birth, and on no angel’s brain more than mine.  Hello?  Heavenly messenger much?”  He indicated himself.  “I’m not sure what’s going on with Leah, but she’s not a prophet.”

            “That doesn’t have to mean that she’s working on the side of evil, though,” Sam insisted, combing through Lindsey’s blonde locks without seeming to notice.  “I mean, these people are building something, keeping themselves safe from Lucifer’s forces.  That’s got to be a good thing.”

            “Maybe.”  Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to trash Sam’s hopes, but truth be told he couldn’t be quite so rosy about the whole thing.  Sure, maybe this was a good thing.  Maybe Leah was hearing from some kind of disguised pagan god, or maybe some other angel had decided to go rogue and fight for their Father’s favorite creations.  In Gabriel’s experience, though, when people started combining religion and “patrols” things rarely turned out to be sweetness and light.  “I guess we’ll learn more tomorrow.”

            They did learn more the next day.  They suited up to join in with the patrol; naturally they had a prayer service to attend first.  While everyone going out seemed to be required by custom at least to show up for the service, not everyone seemed to be a true believer.  Gabriel sat in the back with a couple of the less devout-looking men.  He settled in, expecting to be bored as anything for the duration, but wound up pleasantly surprised once again by Pastor Gideon.  The preacher only troubled them for a brief prayer, invoking the God that Gabriel knew damn well wasn’t listening and didn’t care, and then joined them on the perimeter of the community.

            The first attack didn’t come for three hours into the patrol; shifts apparently lasted six hours so that people could get back to their regular lives.  Gabriel found himself working most closely with the “differently believing” men from the back of the church.  Paul, he learned, ran the bar at the hotel where they were staying; he was married to the manager, who was more of a believer than he but that was okay.  “Can’t really fight with her about it if it brings her comfort, you know?” the bartender muttered.  “I want her to be happy for as long as she can be.”

            “Of course you do.”  He smiled.  “But you don’t think that Leah’s prophecies are the real deal?”

            “Nah.  I mean, if they were the real deal don’t you think that she’d just be able to keep them away from us entirely?  Like, couldn’t her angel just consecrate the ground or something?”  He shook his head.  “I’m not going to deny that we should be fighting back.  And the holy water, the exorcisms, they’re effective.  Pastor Gideon’s a good man.  I’m just – I’ve never been the praying type, I guess.”

            “Me neither.  Fine for those who are,” he hastened to add, holding his hands up, “but – ah, I guess it’s just not a habit I’ve ever managed to pick up.”

            His eyes scanned the patrol.  Lindsey had been encircled by the women going out with this particular battalion as soon as they’d caught sight of her.  Sam, for his part, had been taken under the wing of the pastor himself, and if that wasn’t the funniest thing in the entire world he was turning in his trickster card.  They’d separated into the different groups, the different cliques in the band of warriors as easily as though they’d discussed it beforehand.

            The attack came on the far side of town, near a newly plowed field.  Gabriel couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so many demons in one place.  The thirty that had descended on them yesterday seemed like child’s play; there had to be a hundred, maybe two.  And out here, in the open and in front of a town full of religious humans, Sam couldn’t use his abilities.  Neither could Gabriel..  They were hosed.

            Of course, the townsfolk had their ways about them.  They used the pump truck, prompting screams.  They had their weird exorcism recording, they had salt rounds in all of their weapons.  It helped, it went a long way toward helping, but it didn’t solve everything.  They’d set out with twenty people; they lost three, to include an eighteen-year-old kid on his first patrol.  That one seemed to hit the pastor hard.  The bodies were loaded into the trucks and the church radioed to send out the next patrol early; there were injuries as well as deaths and they couldn’t exactly go without defense.

            The bodies had to be put to rest that night, and of course that meant cremation.  The funeral – again, full attendance required or at least expected – gave the Norse trio an opportunity to get a view of Leah Gideon at work for the first time.  The pastor – who had taken such a shine to Sam that he’d asked him to assist with the obsequies – went through the usual funeral motions, which Gabriel tuned out.  He’d had an eternity to perfect acting somber in such situations, but he hadn’t known the deceased and they were beyond caring anyway.  Then he cleared his throat and informed them that Leah had “endured” another “revelation” that afternoon, not long before the funeral.  Two women from the crowd then escorted a modestly dressed young woman up to the front of the assembly.

            Leah was beautiful, and not in any kind of an alluring way.  She was clearly deeply affected by whatever vision she’d endured that she needed to reveal; Sam had described severe migraines that came with his, when he’d first become psychic.   Maybe Leah had the same problem?  Either way, she seemed glad of her father’s arm to lean upon as she smiled exhaustedly at the congregation.  “My father’s already told you that I’ve heard from the angels,” she intoned.  “I know that you’re worried.  We’ve seen an increase in demonic attacks.  You’re frightened.  I’m frightened.  I spoke with my angel, looking for advice or reassurance.  If we’re God’s chosen people, why would he allow this upsurge?

            “My angel told me that we’re being punished,” Leah continued, looking out over the crowd.  “We’ve become a more godly community, but it seems like that’s not enough.  We’ve trusted people to convert in their own time and in their own way.  We’ve continued to allow sin and vice to flourish in our bosom even while we fight the natural result outside our borders.  Drinking, gambling, fornication – these all have to stop, immediately, or else there will be more funerals.”  A few tears trickled from her eyes.  “I don’t want to bury more friends,” she pled.  “Please.  If you see a neighbor engaged in sin, stop him.”

            Gabriel looked around.  Everywhere, people were nodding and giving small murmurs of assent.  Everywhere, that was, but at his side.  Paul’s face was a thundercloud.

            When they went back to the hotel, Paul ostentatiously turned the sign on the bar to the “closed” position.  “You’re joking,” Gabriel scoffed.

            Paul quirked his lip up.  “I can see which way the wind is blowing,” he told his guest.  “I’m not waiting for them to come around and smash up my place.”  He started pulling the blinds down.  “If you’d like a drink, I’d be happy to sit with you, but I’m not selling.”

            “Tempting.  But my wife’s in recovery, I don’t want to jeopardize anything.”  He paused, deeply uncomfortable.  “Paul, do me a favor.  Don’t go out by yourself tomorrow, okay?  Make sure you go with me or Sam.”

            Paul blinked.  “Sure.”

            Gabriel raced up to the hotel room.  “I think I know what we’re dealing with,” he told his lovers when he arrived.  “And it’s absolutely not an angel.”  The fact that it wasn’t an angel was oddly comforting to him; at least his family hadn’t done this.  Maybe they’d pulled a lot of shit, but not this.  “It’s the Whore.”

            “Maybe we could skip the gendered insults?” Lindsey suggested.  “Also, I’m pretty sure I’ve never even seen a tuna noodle casserole.  Now I have ten different recipes.”

            Gabriel paused long enough to wince.  “Uh, gross.  Okay.  Not _a_ whore.  The Whore.  As in, Whore of Babylon.  I should have figured it out when they called Leah a prophet since, you know, she’s not one.”  He flew to Bethlehem to find a proper cypress stake and presented it to them with a flourish.  “She’s a creature from Hell – not exactly a demon, but a being of the Abyss anyway.”

            “Can I exorcise her?” Sam demanded eagerly.

            “I… I don’t know,” he answered after a moment.  “I’d rather not risk it on an ‘I don’t know.  Besides, she’d just come crawling back out.  I want to be sure – the Whore is an immensely powerful creature and she’s solidly in Lucifer’s court.”

            “She’s killing demons,” Lindsey frowned.  “Or did you skip that part?”

            Sam cleared his throat.  “Uh.  Vision, earlier.  That whole thing with the ‘stamping out sin?’”  they both nodded.  “Yeah, she’s not going to stop there.  She’s going to look to start killing soon – or more to the point, getting the townspeople to kill one another in the name of ridding themselves of the sinful.”

            Lindsey stroked his face.  “Did you seek out that vision?

            “I… yeah.  Like we talked about.  I focused and everything, after seeing that whole ‘spy on your neighbors’ thing. “

            “That’s what the Whore does,” Gabriel identified.  “She harvests souls for Hell, gets them to sin through false prophecy.  We have to take her out.”  He brandished the stake again, significantly less dramatic this time now that his thunder had been stolen.  “And this is how.  There’s just one problem.  It has to be done by a ‘true servant of Heaven.’  Not me.  Not Sam, obviously.  And Lindsey, you’re no one’s servant.”

            “I could get a French Maid costume,” she suggested.  “But there’s nothing of Heaven about that.”

            Sam shook his head.  “There’s no way Gideon’s going to be willing to waste his own daughter, or something that looks like his daughter.  Not going to happen.  What if we go… I don’t know, grab Jo from wherever she is, borrow her for the job and bring her back when we’re done?”

            Gabriel considered.  It was the best plan that they had so far.  He flew out to find the Harvelle girl.  As luck would have it she was with her mother, who insisted on joining them.  The fight with the Whore was intense, and in the end Lindsey turned out to be the one to stake her while Jo and Ellen held her down and her father looked on in horror.  Cornered, “Leah” revealed her true form to her father and the few adherents in the room, but she was able to pin them with her telekinetic ability before they could act.

            Gabriel explained what had happened to the grieving pastor, with Sam’s help.  They torched the body, staying with him until the fire went out.  It was the least they could do, after all.  The next morning Gideon spoke to his flock, explaining what had happened.  Leah had summoned the demons.  There was no reason to live in fear.  The Apocalypse was happening, but Blue Earth was not singled out.

            Whatever happened, though, they could defend themselves, whether individually or as a community.

            The Norse trio didn’t stick around to find out what happened to the people of Blue Earth.  They went back to Ellen and Jo’s place so Ellen could fuss over Sam for a day or so before heading back to Norway.  Gabriel and Lindsey were not excluded in the maternal fussing; both found that they liked it.  Maybe this was what it was like to have decent in-laws, Gabriel mused.

*

            Explaining to Gabriel that he’d lost his faith in Sam had been difficult for Dean, sure.  Family was everything to Dean, always had been.  To sit there and open his mouth to a complete stranger, to tell that stranger that yes, he did believe that his sole remaining family was going to voluntarily give it up for the incarnation of evil himself – that had hurt, and Dean knew hurt.

            But it had also been the truth.  Speaking the words out loud had forced him to take a very long look at his life, forced him to be honest with himself for the first time in a long time.  What was he really doing here?  Who was he holding on for?  Sam?  Sam didn’t give a crap about him, didn’t have Dean in his Heaven and didn’t care about family any more than he cared about his toenail clippings.  He was going to give it up for Satan because that was who he was.  Dad had known it, had told him to take Sam out but Dean hadn’t been able to do it.  It wasn’t that Dean didn’t love his brother, he loved him more than he should.  But he knew that Sam was weak.  Sam was selfish.  Sam wouldn’t hold out against Lucifer’s blandishments.  Sam hadn’t even held out against Gabriel.

            So what the hell else was Dean holding on for?  There was Anna; he loved her.  He thought she loved him, but it was hard to tell with angels.  And she would get over it.  He could negotiate with Michael for her safety, hers and Cas’.  It wasn’t like she was family, like she would give him children someday or anything like that.  (Like that wouldn’t be a horror show, right?  A bunch of half-angel kids running around, maybe they could go and play with their half-demon uncle Sammy… Jesus he needed to stop that train of thought.)

            Speaking of kids… what about Ben?  Lisa had said Ben wasn’t his.  He’d accepted that, but he didn’t believe it.  He’d been on his way to Hell, and what kind of a prick did that to a kid?  “Hey, kid.  I’m your dad, and by the way I’m checking out in a few months.  Have a nice life, oh by the way I have no source of income and nothing to leave you besides this car that you don’t know how to take care of and won’t be able to drive for another eight years.”  Yeah, swell.  But there was no way that the kid wasn’t his.

            Slowly and methodically, Dean began to pack up this things.  He didn’t have much.  There was some clothing, his weapons, that was about it.  Then he sat down to write a letter.  When he was done, he left the keys to the Impala on top of the letter and stole a car from the cache of semi-functional junkers.

            The drive to Cicero took eleven and a half hours.  He stopped only to change cars, not really caring about food or coffee.  He didn’t want anything in his stomach when Michael took over.  Lisa wasn’t home when he got there, so he settled in to wait until she got back from wherever she was.

            He didn’t have long, only a couple of hours.  That was fine; it was probably his last chance to enjoy the blue skies or whatever.  It was early spring; he’d never really paid much attention to the way the buds on the trees popped against the bright backdrop of the sky before.  The last time – when he’d been on his way to Hell – he’d been too busy trying to fight.  Now there was nothing.

            Lisa came home.  He knocked on her door.  She gasped when she saw him, which wasn’t what he’d really been going for but whatever.  He stammered out an explanation that probably made no sense to her whatsoever, but he promised her that whatever happened no one was getting anything from him without assuring her and Ben’s safety.  It probably wouldn’t mean much to her, since she had no idea what he was talking about, and if he stopped to think about it angel promises were worth even less than demon promises.  But he needed to tell her this for himself, so he did and he didn’t think too much about the logistics.

            He never even saw Castiel coming, didn’t notice the punch until it was too late and darkness overtook him.  

 

 


	12. I Believe In Grace And Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel brings back a little brother. Dean thinks he's getting away with something.

           The call came from Castiel and Anael simultaneously, while Gabriel was in the middle of getting a very pleasant massage from both of his lovers.  It wasn’t that they spent all of their time in the bedroom, but he didn’t see a point to spending all of their time on the Lucifer problem – they needed to remind themselves why they kept fighting, after all.  The prayers ripped through his consciousness, killing his mood just as effectively as a bucket of cold water would have.  “We pray to the god Loki!  Come quickly – it’s Dean!” they called.

       “Damn it,” he hissed, explaining what had happened.

       Lindsey pouted a little, but grabbed her shirt.  “I’m not sure what’s going on, but it can’t be good.  They wouldn’t call you, not after that whole… you know.  Thing.”

       Sam darted her a quizzical look, but he was already getting his things.  “Thing?”

       “I might have gotten a little wrathful when they let you twist upstairs so they could send Dean on a wild goose chase.”  He ran a hand through his hair.  Clothing appeared on his body without him thinking much about it.  “Lindsey’s right, though.  They wouldn’t call on me unless it were literally life and death.”

       “Or worse,” Sam groaned.

       It only took a thought to get them back to South Dakota; the route was starting to become routine.  He wondered idly if it wasn’t maybe time to move the family from Norway – they liked the cabin, they’d gotten used to it, but someone was bound to notice the frequency of flight on that route and catch on.  He had a place near Kochi that they could use. He’d wanted to avoid India because of Kali but maybe if they laid low, didn’t draw attention to themselves they could probably pull it off.  Of course, sticking a giant white guy like Sam anywhere other than the Midwest or northwestern Europe would draw attention but they’d manage…

       Anael met them outside the ramshackle house with barely a curl of the lip for Sam.  “Gabriel, it’s Dean,” she informed.  A warrior angel, she didn’t tend to show a lot of emotion on her face, but a sheen of sweat betrayed her.  Angels weren’t supposed to sweat.  “He’s going to –“

       “Say ‘yes’ to Michael?” he surmised, shaking his head.  “Of course he did.”  It all added up.  The only reason that Cas and Anael would have called on him was if Dean had taken off to do the unthinkable.    

       “You know?” the redhead accused, wheeling around on him.  “You knew and you did nothing?”

       Lindsey and Sam bristled, but Gabriel was more than able to defend himself.  “I didn’t know,” he pointed out, making sure that enough of his true voice came out in his words that she was reminded of her place.  “I didn’t even suspect.  I’m just not surprised.  The guy needs control and he’s lost control.  It was just a matter of time before he cracked.  He doesn’t think we can do this?”

       “Is he right?” Bobby demanded, wheeling himself out to sit beside Castiel.  “Can we really fight?”  He picked up a piece of paper from his lap; Dean’s “goodbye” letter, presumably.  Gabriel ignored it.

       “Lisa Braeden,” Sam told the junior angels.  Even Gabriel had trouble following this non sequitur.

       “Excuse me?” Castiel blinked.

       “He hasn’t said ‘yes’ yet.  We’d have all known about that,” the giant man explained patiently.  “There are only so many stops on the farewell tour.  Lisa Braeden is a woman he had a relationship with.  She’s got a son.  He’d want to see them before he gave it up.”

       Anael frowned.  “He’d want to go to another woman?  But we…”  She blushed before glaring at Sam again.  “I won’t discuss that with you.”

       He rolled his eyes.  “You had sex in the back of the car I lived in, Anna.  It’s not a friggin’ secret, okay?  Not the point.  He was with Lisa before he even knew that you existed; he sees her as more of this… weird, idealized  creature, part of this fantasy ‘normal life’ like he had with … with his parents before all this started.  And why do you think that is?”

       “The baby,” Lindsey breathed.

       “The ‘baby’ is about ten by now,” Sam grinned.  “And she says he’s not Dean’s.”

       Seeing an angel get jealous just seemed strange to Gabriel.  They weren’t supposed to get jealous; then again, he supposed he was living proof that angels did what they weren’t supposed to all the time.  “How exactly do you know how he feels about her, Sam?”

       “Dream walking incident a couple of years ago.”  He looked away.  “Had to do it to save him from this guy – anyway.  I wouldn’t do it again, there’s just something creepy about wandering around in your brother’s subconscious.  And he wouldn’t want me to.  But that’s where he is.  I’d get there and grab him if I were you, unless you like the idea of cozying up to Michael instead of Dean.”

       Anael gave him a look of pure hate before she and Castiel flew away.  Bobby was staring at Sam.  “So.  Sam.”

       “Hi, Bobby.”  Sam gave half a smile..  “Been a while.  You’re, uh, you’re looking well.  All things considered.”

       Bobby turned around and wheeled himself back into the house.  Okay, great.  This was going to be one of those reunions, then.  Last time they’d seen Singer he’d been upset with Dean about having disowned Sam, now he wasn’t speaking to the guy?  Gabriel couldn’t keep track.

       Anael and Castiel reappeared, carrying an unconscious Dean between them.  It fell to Sam to deposit him in the panic room; someone had added angel warding to the structure in an astonishing display of common sense.  “You were correct, Sam,” Castiel informed his friend’s brother.  “I was surprised, but you were correct.”

       “What can I say?”  He shrugged, carefully tucking a blanket around Dean’s slumbering form.  “Is he okay?”  Sam’s breath was ragged down here, and his eyes darted around the room like he was expecting something to jump out of the shadows.

       “He is exhausted.  The running and fighting has taken a toll.”

       “He misses you,” Anael volunteered abruptly.  “He doesn’t like not having you around.  He feels abandoned.”

       Sam rubbed his face, glancing at the door of the room.  “So did I,” he told her.  “For a long time.  But you know, he’s got you.  He’s got Cas, he’s got Bobby.  Ellen and Jo, Rufus.  He might miss me, but he was pretty clear that he didn’t need the hassle.”  He quirked up a corner of his mouth.  “And that’s okay.  He’s got to do what he’s got to do.  I get it.”  He glanced at Castiel.  “Which one of you hit him?  He’s not usually out this long.”

       “I was angry,” the falling angel replied evenly.  “We cannot allow him to yield to Michael.”

       “No, no, I get that.  I suppose that if you put him into a permanent coma he can’t do that.”  Sam glowered, nostrils flaring..  Gabriel desperately wished he could take him into his arms, but the warding prevented it.

       “He’s not permanently damaged,” Anael assured him.  “His body is simply taking advantage of the situation to get some necessary rest.”

       “Sam,” Gabriel urged gently.  “Why don’t you come upstairs and see if Bobby will let you use the library for a while, hmm?  I’d rather not have you lurking around in here like…”  He didn’t need to say it; he knew Sam remembered.

       “I don’t want him to wake up here alone,” the scholar told him, cupping Dean’s face with a gentle hand.

       “He was more than willing to let you suffer in here,” Lindsey pointed out.

       “I know.”  He shrugged.  “Doesn’t make it right for me to do it.”

       “Okay.  I’ll stay then.”  Lindsey walked into the room, only cringing a little at the iron walls and unique décor.  “I’ll call you when he wakes up.  Go.  There’s no point in you torturing yourself hanging out here all alone.”

       Sam hesitated, but Gabriel met his eyes.  Nothing good would come of letting Sam stay down here, stewing in his own juices until his brother woke up and ripped into him for interfering in his plan to destroy himself and give into Michael.  Even having him at the junkyard might prove difficult.  “Okay.  Thanks, Linds.”  He kissed her on the way past, tension melting out of both of them.

       Upstairs, Sam sat on the couch and crouched over his laptop.  Bobby watched him carefully, but didn’t talk to him at all.  Gabriel watched the older man.  He couldn’t quite figure out Singer’s intentions or feelings toward Sam.  Sometimes it seemed to him that the hunter was entirely in Dean’s pocket – he’d been uncritical of Dean’s decision to imprison Sam in the panic room, which would have been fatal had Castiel not released him to start the Apocalypse.  And he seemed to have accepted Dean’s version of events in the interactions Gabriel had with him, at best doling out equal portions of blame when such even-handedness was distinctly not merited by the circumstances.  Here, though, he seemed to genuinely feel something for Sam.  The extent to which that was going to affect him remained to be seen, but at least it was there.

       “Brother,” Anael told him hesitantly, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “There is another issue which should be discussed.”

       Gabriel raised an eyebrow, which Castiel took as permission to babble.  “To what extent do you listen to the communications on ‘Angel Radio?’”

       “I don’t,” he admitted bluntly.

       “He’s an angel?”  Bobby  leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.  “Well that explains why staking didn’t work.”

       At least they’d kept his secrets.  “I’m concerned that Michael’s forces have come up with an alternate plan in case they are not able to make use of Dean,” Castiel continued.  “They have been circumspect, but they have referred to ‘Plan B.’”

       Singer pursed his lips.  “Well they can’t use Sam, he’s already supposed to be Lucifer’s vessel.”  His face relaxed slightly.  “Although I do suppose that he’s big enough to take ‘em both on, if he really wants to.”

       “That’s not nearly as funny as you think it is,” Gabriel told him.  The thought of one of his brothers using Sam as a vessel – once his only goal – now filled him with rage.  The concept of both of them subjecting his lover to that kind of torment made him want to flatten the house.  “He wouldn’t – you don’t think he’d use the kid, do you?  I mean, no decent angel would take a child as a vessel.”

       Sam gave Castiel a bitchface of epic proportions.  His whole body got into the act before he replied.  “Yeah, no, I don’t think any good angel would even think of that – I mean even Lucifer wouldn’t.”  The dark-haired angel hung his head.  Gabriel didn’t have much time to wonder what was going on there, because Sam was still speaking.  “You don’t think they’d pull someone back from the dead to play muppet, do you?”

       “It’s possible, I guess,” Anael nodded.  “Do you think they’d use your father?  His is Michael’s bloodline.”

       Sam looked a little green.  “No.  Our father’s soul isn’t in Heaven, and I can’t imagine that they’d go hunting for a soul that escaped Hell and didn’t make it upstairs if they had one that’s more convenient.”  He cleared his throat.  “John Winchester raised two sons, but he left three.”

       Gabriel bobbed his head from side to side in disgust.  “Seriously?  Illegitimate half-brothers now?  Are you sure he’s dead?”

       Sam pulled up his shirt to reveal a scar on his side.  “Eaten by ghouls looking for revenge on John.  Fun times.”

       The archangel fixed Sam’s eyes with his own.  “What did you do with his body?”

       “Cremated it.  Windom, Minnesota.”

       Gabriel didn’t waste time, simply flew.  If Castiel and Anael were correct, he needed to finesse this one very closely.

       The sensation of a Winchester’s soul being returned to its body summoned him to a wooded area behind a relatively isolated home.  He found two angels there, wearing the bland and colorless suits typical of the God Squad these days.  He didn’t give them any warning, didn’t identify himself.  He just stabbed the first of them and smote the second.  It was quick, painless.  Probably better than they deserved if things in Heaven had gone to crap as badly as it sounded like they had – angels taking child vessels?  Really?  - but he didn’t want to give them a moment to report back.  Then he plunged his hand into the earth, grabbed onto the warm hand he felt inside, and pulled.

       Once he’d pulled the newly alive Adam Milligan out of the still-cold ground.  He didn’t give the boy – young man, really – a chance to adjust or figure himself out, just etched those warding sigils Castiel had come up with directly into the kid’s ribs as they flew to Bobby Singer’s house.

       Sam, Castiel, Anael and Bobby stared.  Adam stared back at everyone involved and made an attempt to back into a wall.  “Well that was unexpected,” Gabriel commented.  “Figured you’d head for the door first.”

       He was met with silence.  “Pants, brother,” Anael told him finally, after staring at him for another minute.  “The boy is human, and humans prefer to wear pants in their interactions with strangers.”

       “For the most part,” Castiel added.  “There are some interactions –“

       “Not the time, Cas,” Bobby and Sam interrupted swiftly, with identical pinched expressions.

       Gabriel chuckled and snapped his fingers.  The Milligan boy found himself wearing pants.  “Feeling better, Sport?” he asked with a cheesy grin.

       “Who – what are you people?” Adam gasped, his first words since springing back to life.  “Where’s Zachariah?”

       Gabriel tilted his head to the side.  “You were expecting to find Zachariah when you woke up?”  He remembered Zachariah.  If you looked up “sycophant” in the dictionary you’d see his picture.  The archangel had taken great delight in de-tuning his voice in the Choir.

       “You were expecting to wake up at all?” Bobby rumbled.  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

       “It – it was Heaven.  Only it kind of looked like my senior prom.  I was –“  His cheeks reddened and he glanced first at Bobby, then at Anael.  “I was making out with Kristin McGee.”  He smiled, low and slow, and Gabriel shook his head with a grin.  That grin was pure Dean.  “Anyway.  This angel, called himself Zachariah, came to me and asked me for my help.  He said he me and this archangel were supposed to fight the Devil and save the world.”    

       Anael and Castiel exchanged glances.  “Perhaps it would be best if we fetched Dean,” the latter suggested.

       “I’ll get him,” Anael said quickly, and raced for the stairs.

       “Dean?”  Adam sat down in a chair and gave an unamused little huff that could have come directly from Sam.  “Dean Winchester, huh?”

       “Yeah,” Sam rasped, and then a little stronger.  “Yeah.  You may have some trouble believing this, but we’re your brothers.  Half-brothers, anyway.”  He glanced away.  Gabriel moved over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, drawing Bobby’s glance.

       “Oh yeah.  That probably makes you Sam.  Zachariah warned me about you.”

       “You listen here, kid,” Gabriel growled, hand clenching down on Sam’s shoulder.  “You’re an eighteen-year-old kid who’s just gotten yanked out of a hole in the ground.  Some guy comes along and spins you a yarn about how you’re the ‘Chosen One’ or some such crap and you’re just going to swallow it?”

       “Aw, geez,” came Dean’s voice from the doorway.  “That’s what they’re going with?  Really?  They couldn’t let the poor kid rest in peace?”  He looked around the room.  “Absolutely none of you has any grounds to stop me this time.  I mean I know Michael’s not going to be any fun, but better me than this kid.  At least I know what I’m getting into.”

       All at once, Sam rose and glided across the room to get into his brother’s face.  “No, Dean.  You don’t.”  There wasn’t room for a piece of paper between them, and Gabriel wondered if he ought to take Steps.  Lindsey was there, she had her hand on Sam’s arm, but there was only so much she could physically do if a half-demon psychic of Sam’s size decided he really wanted to start throwing punches.  “You’ve never been possessed, Dean.  You have no clue what it’s like to have something else crawling around inside of your skin, watching it do things with your body that you didn’t give the okay for, that you’d never allow or do.”

       “Oh, come on, Sammy,” Dean sneered.  “You can sit here and bitch all you want, but you know damn well that you’re just prolonging the inevitable.  Sooner or later, you’re going to give in.  You don’t want to.  I know.  But I just don’t have any faith.”

“In what?  Our plan?  You don’t even know what it is.”

“In you,”  Dean stabbed at him with his finger, pushing him back an inch or two. “You’re weak, you’re self-righteous.  You have no idea how to resist temptation – I mean you went from sleeping with one supernatural piece of crap to sleeping with another one.”  He gestured to Gabriel.

Sam took a deep breath.  “Yeah.  You’ve got a leg to stand on there.  But that’s not the point.”  Gabriel took a moment to be impressed.  Sam wasn’t letting his brother’s words have any visible effect on him, wasn’t letting them make him slump or weaken.

“You’re right,” Dean snipped.  “The point is that when you do give it up for Lucifer, there’s only going to be one thing that can stop him.  That’s Michael, in his true vessel.  I’ve got to be there to stop you.  Why wait?  Why put it off by a single freaking day?”

Adam leaned over to Anael.  “So this is what having brothers is like?”

She grimaced.  “It’s what these particular brothers are like,” she tried.

“You should see mine,” Gabriel offered, waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey – hey!” Adam barked.  His siblings turned their heads to look at him.  “Look.  I don’t know what this ‘true vessel’ crap that you’re talking about is, but Zachariah was pretty sure that I’m the one who’s supposed to fight with Michael against Lucifer.  Not you, Dean.  And I’m not scared.  So just… someone lend me a shirt and I’ll just give Zachariah a call.”

“I can’t let you do that, kiddo,” Gabriel told him mildly.  “I mean, the shirt, sure.”  A tee shirt enveloped the boy’s torso.  “’Fraid it’s going to be an ix-nay on the other stuff.”  He drew a hand across his throat for emphasis.  “Ordinarily I’m Mr. Free Will, kind of weird for an angel, I know, but in this case there’s a lot of fine print that you didn’t get shown.”

“Zach showed me enough.”  The kid’s jaw jutted out.

“Oh really?  So he told you that a minimum of two-thirds of the planet will be wiped out if his side wins?” Lindsey shot out.

Adam frowned.  “Who’re you again?” he muttered, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

“My name’s Lindsey.  I’m your brother’s partner.”

“Dean implied that he was with –“  Adam indicated Gabriel.

Sam rolled his eyes.  “We are.  It’s 2010, Adam.  And the Apocalypse.  My sex life isn’t important.  Focus.  We’re talking billions of people here.”

“But the alternative is letting Lucifer win,” the student observed.  “And then it’s everyone.”  He smirked.  “That means three thirds.”

“Not if we can stop him.”

“You’ve got a plan there, do you?”  He crossed his arms across his chest.  “Because Zach was pretty sure that you weren’t coming up with much.

“We’re working on the power of love right now,” Dean snarked from the seat he took in the corner.

“Oh yeah?  How’s that working out for you?”

Dean gave the thumbs up.  “Super.”

One advantage to moving the family to Kochi was that it was farther away from Sam’s brothers, Gabriel thought idly.  “We do have a plan.  We’ve gotten farther with it than we ever expected,” Sam told them, glancing at Gabriel and Lindsey.  Why wouldn’t he want his siblings to know about the rings?  “The thing is, a large part of the plan involves neither Michael nor Lucifer getting their hands on a Winchester vessel.”

“Eager as I am to hear anyone but Dean talk,” Gabriel added, “I can’t pretend that I’m here for the destruction of humanity.  And you, pretty boy, aren’t ‘chosen’ for anything.  You’re literally just here because you’re John  Winchester’s son.  Descendants of Cain, you’re the only ones who can hold Michael for any length of time without disintegrating.  Did little Zachariah give you the details on the whole possession trip?”

“He didn’t say anything about possession.”  Adam’s voice didn’t exactly shake, but he sounded a lot less sure of himself.

Anael cleared her throat and gave him some details about angelic possession.  Adam turned pale as she explained the surrender of all of his bodily autonomy, but he clenched his fists and held firm.  “Whatever it takes to save the world, man.”

Dean sneered.  “They haven’t even gotten to the fun part, kid.  Assuming that you win – and that’s an awfully big assumption – he’ll pull out of you.  You have no idea what kind of shape you’ll be in, but I can promise you that it won’t be pretty.  The last guy I saw who got used as an archangel vessel was left completely catatonic.  And he hadn’t even been used for more than a few hours.”  He leaned forward.  “All those brains that Dad and your mom were so proud of, so excited about?  Yeah – kiss them goodbye.  They’ll be Jell-O, Jack.”

“Wait a minute,” Adam objected.  “Aren’t you fighting with me for the honor of doing this?”

“Dean has the blood from the Campbell line – descendants of Abel, also a line of archangel vessels.  He is more likely to be able to tolerate an archangel’s presence for longer.”  Castiel glanced at Dean.  “Not for much longer.  You will still not be functional at the end of your service.  But for longer.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cas.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Adam insisted.  “I’ve got to do this.  I’ve got to do this for the world.  And…”

“Here we go,” Gabriel grinned, rubbing his hands together.  “What did they promise you?”

“My mom,” he admitted, looking down.  “He promised me that at the end of it he’d take me back to Heaven, but that he’d let me see my mom this time.  Like, really my mom, not some… memory stuck on repeat.”

Dean stood up, running his hands through his hair.  “You see?  You see what comes from dicking around and screwing with this?  They’ve got our kid brother turned around six ways from Sunday, using his mom against him –“

“Hey, wait just a minute,” Adam objected, standing up and turning around.  “Can you not with the ‘our kid brother’ shtick?  We share some genetic material, okay?  And so far what’s that gotten me?  Eaten by ghouls and an oh-so-fantastic opportunity to get worn by an angel.  I don’t have brothers, alright?  I don’t know you.  You’re strangers, and you’re strangers that I don’t even like very much.”

“Adam.”  Sam approached, voice soft and eyes all gentle and puppy-ish.  “Look.  I get that we’re not family in the conventional sense.  The Winchesters – we’re not a conventional family.”

“You live in a kinky threesome with two supernatural beings!” the boy snapped.

“Technically she’s the one living with two supernatural beings.  But – that’s not the point.  John didn’t do you any favors, hiding you away like that.  You didn’t know about the things in the dark, and he thought that would keep you safe.  They came for you anyway, because of something he did.  We had no idea, none at all, that you even existed.  As soon as we found out we came running, Adam.”

Dean gave a bitter, sarcastic smile.  “Of course, it turned out to be ghouls pretending to be you and your mom.  Not really you.  Aw, but you should’ve seen Sammy here.  Such an eager big brother!  Show him the scars, Sammy.  I’m sure they’ll sell him.”

Sam glared daggers at Dean.  “The point is that we came for you.  We didn’t want… we didn’t want to be strangers, you know?  Look.  I get that your mom’s your only real family.  But if you have even a single good memory of John Winchester, you’ll give us a chance to pull this off.”

Adam glowered at them, but finally nodded.  “I’ll give you some time,” he agreed.  “But No promises.”

 

*

 

Dean let himself out of Bobby’s house in the dark of night.  Maybe it was risky; maybe it was downright stupid to sneak out of a house in the middle of the night when close to  half of the people currently in residence were angels and didn’t freaking sleep.  And it was absolutely a dick move to go sneaking off in the night to do what they were all telling him was not only unnecessary but a Very Bad Idea.  Dean, however, knew that they were wrong.  Whatever plan they were coming up with had about a zero percent chance of working, and that was before you calculated in Sammy’s epic fail factor.  After all, the last time he’d “had a plan” he’d wound up starting the Apocalypse.

No, this was going to happen.  Someone needed to do the dirty work, and it wasn’t going to be that sullen, snarky kid in the house.  God, could that kid really be their brother?  He was so… resentful.  To be honest, Dean had liked Ghoul Adam better, and he hadn’t liked Ghoul Adam much.

But he didn’t have to like the kid to save him, and he was going to save him.   This was how.  Every day that he wasted sitting around and pinning his hopes on Sammy’s little pipe dreams was a day that more people died when they didn’t have to.  So – this was how it was going to have to be.  It was probably going to suck, but hey – at least this way he could get some concessions out of the winged dicks, right?  Keep his people safe?

He sat down in the Impala and started her up, pulling out of the driveway and out onto the road.  “Not a bad getaway, eh, Sammy?” he asked the passenger seat, mostly out of habit.

“I don’t know about that,” the passenger seat responded.  “I think you might have miscalculated here and there.”

Dean almost lost control of the car.  Almost.  He reached out a hand to touch the figure in the seat, but Sammy felt warm and real.  “What the hell, man?  What are you doing here?”

A tiny little smile played at the corners of Sam’s mouth.  “I’m playing Parcheesi, Dean.  I’m going with you.  Obviously.”

“Sam, you cannot go with me where I’m going.  They’re angels.  They will smite you where you stand.”  Was he out of his mind?  Had he completely forgotten about his whole “save the world through love and tofu” kick?

       Sam shrugged.  “Not if they want Lucifer to wear me like a hairy little black dress they won’t.  And if they do, so what?  If my brother’s gone, with Michael in his skin, do you really think it will matter if Zachariah’s killed me again?”   He snorted.  “Maybe it’ll stick this time.”

       “Didn’t seem to bother you all that much when I went to Hell for you,” Dean lashed out.  The kid had to see reason somehow.  He just couldn’t come along.  He couldn’t be there.

       “Dean – don’t.  You know better.  You’re lashing out because you don’t want me to see you like that.  But I’m not going to let you go alone.  You’re my brother, and I love you, and the last thing I’m going to do is let the last thing you see be some dickbag angel.”

       Dean felt sick.  “They’re going to deliver you to Lucifer.”

       He shrugged again.  “Then they do.”

       “Won’t your asshole angel and your pretty homicidal maniac object to that?”

       “They know how I feel about you, Dean.  I love them too.”  He gave one of his half-grins.  “It doesn’t have to be an exclusive thing.  I can love Gabriel and Lindsey, and I can love you.”

       Dean gripped the wheel tighter.  It wasn’t the same.  He loved Anna, but he hadn’t walked away from Sam.  Okay, he had, but it was different.  Anna hadn’t killed Sam a thousand different times and in a thousand different ways.  She’d tried to kill him twice or whatever but… damn it.

       They drove on for a while.  “You know,” Dean commented, glancing at his brother.  “If it were me, I’d lock you in the panic room and let you rot.”  He paused.  “I have let you rot in there.”

       “I’m aware.”  Sam’s voice sounded a little strangled, and his eyes stayed on the ground when he spoke.  “I was there, remember?”

       “So why are you doing this?”

       “I have faith.  You’ll do the right thing, when it comes right down to it.  I know you will.”  He gave a small smile.

       “The right thing means saying ‘yes’ to Michael.  Which means you’re going to be alone with Michael and Zachariah with no backup.”  He shook his head.

       Sam shrugged again.

       “Your boyfriend there isn’t going to bail you out.  He’s too much of a coward to come save you; doesn’t want to out himself in front of the other angels.” He had to get Sam away; why wouldn’t he just go storming off in a huff?

       “Would you?  They’re dicks.”

       “Yeah, well, wait until you meet Balthazar.”  He pulled over to the side of the road.  “Alright, Sammy.  End of the line.  I’m doing it here and now.”

       “Make the call then.”  Sam got out of the car and sat on the hood of the Impala, stretching out.  “I’ll wait.”

       Dean felt tears behind his eyes, hot and weak.  “Sam, just go!”

       “Nope.”

       The hunter sighed before throwing his head back and stretching his arms out.  “Alright, Michael, you son of a bitch!  I’m ready!”

       He waited.  They heard nothing for a good minute, but then they got the sound of rustling wings.  Zachariah stood before them.  “Well well well,” he smirked.  “If it isn’t Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber.  So.  Are you mudskippers finally ready to accept the fact that you can’t fight destiny?”

       Dean blinked.  Had he been played?  “Where’s Michael?”  Sam just lazed on the hood, like a barc-a-lounger.

       “He’s in Heaven, dumbass.  A being of his power without being contained in a vessel, on this plane, would leave a crater the size of the moon.  I didn’t think that was exactly your thing.  Tell me what you want and I’ll relay it to him.  Assuming, of course, that you’re intending to say what I want you to say.”

       “Okay,” Dean smiled, trying to project a confidence that he didn’t necessarily feel.

       “Wait a minute,” Sammy objected, eyebrows drawing together and head tilting to the side.  He really had been spending too much time with a dick angel, hadn’t he?  “You mean to tell me that Michael hasn’t even been negotiating with Dean directly?  Hasn’t spoken with him directly?”

       Zachariah’s face twisted into a snarl and he gestured.  Sam’s face turned blue almost instantly.  “What did you do?” Dean shouted.

       “Relax.  Lucifer will just bring him back; I just didn’t see a reason to listen to that abomination’s blathering any longer.  I mean, even you cut him loose.  I ripped his lungs out.”  He clapped him on the upper arm, almost affectionately, as he chuckled.  “Hey – that’s your line, am I right?”

       Dean looked back at Sam’s eyes in horror.  Zachariah had just casually murdered his brother, and for what?  Because Sammy had just wanted to come and make sure that Dean didn’t go marching into oblivion alone?  Those hazel eyes burned into him, wide open and not even fixed or glassy yet.  “Oh, I’m ready to say ‘yes’ to Michael,” Dean smiled, tight and nasty.  Fuck angels.  Fuck Michael.  Sam’s point had been made anyway – who the hell did Michael think he was?  Maybe Sam had fucked up with Lucifer and everything, but Sam had come all this way to show him – in person – that he trusted Dean to do the right thing. “I just have a few terms and conditions first.”

       Zachariah rolled his eyes.  “Of course you do.  Let’s hear them.”

       Dean glanced at Sammy’s body.  Sammy, his last relative.  And sure, Sammy had known what he was getting into coming here, but Sammy had trusted him to do the right thing and hadn’t he always kept Sammy safe?  Now here he lay, dead again.  Maybe Lucifer would bring him back.  Maybe he wouldn’t.  Maybe Michael would obliterate him down to his component atoms and scatter them across time and space, right down to his very soul, once he was safely ensconced in Dean’s body.  “First, I want my people kept safe.  Bobby, Cas, Anna, Jo, Ellen.”

       “The monkeys won’t be a problem,” Zachariah dismissed with a wave.  “If you seriously think he’s going to just accept the idea of two traitors to Heaven continuing to take up space you’ve got –“  He cut himself off, lips thinning and pupils dilating.  Funny how angels could have the same tells as a human.  He’d learned that from Anna – different circumstances, different reactions to different stimuli, but it was the same principle.  “Never mind.  Done.”

       So Michael was calling the shots.  It wasn’t just Zachariah being a dick, Michael was the one pulling his strings.  Michael was pulling his strings, and he’d never once bothered to reach out to Dean directly.  Dean struggled to rein in his fury.  Sam had been right, but for Dean to be able to make it right he needed to play this cool.  “Second.  Ben and Lisa – they need to be safe too.  No one’s getting a piece of me until I know they’re okay.”

       Zachariah made a face.  “Really?  You’re worried about your little bastard at a time like this?  Fine.  Not a problem.  The kid and your baby momma are off limits.  You have my word.”

       Dean knew exactly how far Zachariah’s word would go.  “Third condition: I get to stab you in your face.”

       The seraph laughed out loud.  “You’ve got to be joking.  Dean, Michael loves me.  I brought him his true vessel.  He’s not going to let you do anything.”

       The angel sword flew into Dean’s hand.  Where it had come from?  Dean hadn’t been carrying it, that was for sure.  He wasn’t going to question it.  As soon as the cool, alien metal hit his palm he stabbed out and drove the pointed end into Zachariah’s sneering face.

       Sam was on him, tackling him to the ground and covering his eyes with that giant hand of his.  “Getting out of here?” Sam gasped.

       “Good plan,” Dean agreed, nodding as the ground settled.

       Sam hauled him to his feet as Dean blinked away the spots that danced before his eyes.  Somewhere distantly he could feel a deeper, more terrifying rumbling.  It wasn’t his imagination either; the trees were losing branches.  They still made it safely to the Impala, though, tugging each other along.

       Dean had recovered enough from the explosion of Grace to drive, so they settled into their accustomed seats and sped away from the site and back to Bobby’s.  Sam coughed slightly and turned to Dean.  “So, you were pretty pro-Michael going in.”

       “Yeah,” Dean had to confess.  “Yeah, I was.”  He’d had every intention of leaving that meeting as someone else, something else entirely.

       “What changed your mind?”

       He huffed out a sigh.  “I just… seeing you there… I couldn’t make myself let you down.”

       Sam’s answering smile – shy, hesitant, but there and genuine and blindingly bright for all its miniscule size – made everything worthwhile.  

 


	13. You Know Our Breath Is Weak And Our Bodies Thin

Gabriel couldn’t help but be furious when the Winchesters returned to Bobby’s.  Dean had done something amazingly stupid, something that went beyond just risking himself, and he had to leave the house to keep himself from smiting the asshole right then and there.  And Sam – Sam had gone off and risked getting himself killed again.  Okay, so he’d taken precautions.  So Gabriel had helped with those precautions.  So what?  If Dean had taken just a few seconds longer to get his head out of his ass, Michael would have seen through the ruse and shredded him like tissue paper.  All for what?

       He entertained himself by arranging the Impala’s radio so that it only tuned in to classical music channels and flew off to Haiti.  Baron Samedi had reached out to him, and he decided that a little bit of time with his old friend would be exactly what the doctor ordered.  He left a message with Lindsey, letting both of his lovers know that he’d be back in a few days when he’d calmed down.  Then he made his way south and east.

       The Baron was exactly where Gabriel expected to find him, doing exactly what Gabriel expected to find him doing.  The divinity was in a bar in Aux Cayes, sitting in a corner in the back of the establishment watching as men and women danced together in the warm night.  None of the patrons seemed to notice him at the moment.  Gabriel wondered how they’d feel if they did know who they shared their space with tonight.  Would they flee, or would they flock to him with requests?  It could be hard to tell sometimes.  Maybe both, he reflected.  Never let it be said that people who honored the old ways weren’t smart about it.  “Loki!” the Baron intoned.  “Welcome!  There’s plenty of rum to go around, you know.”

       Rum.  It was exactly what the doctor ordered.  Not that it could have much of an effect on an angel; even poor falling Castiel had needed to consume an entire liquor store in order to feel much of an effect.  He still enjoyed the flavor, the scent, the idea behind it.  “Thank you, my friend,” he let himself smile.   “It’s good to see you.”

       “It is, isn’t it?” the local laughed.  “Did you know that this rum comes all the way from Boston?”  Gabriel hadn’t, and silently indicated this fact.  “One of the last bottles made before the Molasses Flood of 1919.”  He laughed darkly.  “Which is what they earned for not paying for the sugar they bought.”

       “I have to admit that I wondered who was behind that,” the angel murmured.  “No way that was just human error.  I mean come on.  A flood of molasses?  Seriously?”  He shook his head.  “Nice job of getting your hands on it.  And thank you for sharing it with me.”

       Samedi shrugged.  “I don’t have many friends who would appreciate the story behind it,” he acknowledged.  “Besides, we might as well drink up.  It isn’t as though we’ll have many chances left, what with that whole Apocalypse thing coming down on us.”

       Gabriel shifted.  “Do you really think it’s the end?”

       “The Usurping God may be a usurper but His children are stronger than any of us.”  He waved a hand.  “Any of us put together, really.  That’s what comes of harvesting all of those souls.  They were powerful to begin with, but with the souls of their adherents to fuel them – I don’t think that they can be stopped.  Certainly not by the likes of us.”

       Gabriel made a face and drank from his snifter.  The rum definitely had a different flavor to it than modern product did; something earthier, more profound, he supposed.  “We can’t fight them head-on,” he admitted.  “Although you’d be surprised.  I’ve been working on something, a plan.”

       Samedi threw his head back and laughed.  “A plan, huh?  Last I heard you’d holed up with a pretty girl and a pretty boy to wait for the end.  Not a bad way to go, I have to say.  I don’t suppose you’d bring the girl by?”

       “Ah, we don’t have that kind of relationship.  I’m pretty sure she’d find a way to cut off my bits if even thought about suggesting sharing outside our little threesome.”  He winced.  Eventually he’d have to introduce Lindsey around, but he’d have to warn her about the different personalities of some of the more exciting gods first.  Samedi was a great guy, but he made Dean’s level of debauchery look absolutely puritanical.  It was part of his charm, really.

       Samedi shrugged.  “Pity.  Another girl, another time.”

       “Anyway, you’d be surprised at what we’ve managed to pull off with just some humans and a little bit of know-how.  I don’t know how likely it is that we’ll win,” he admitted, tilting his glass toward his friend.  “But I can tell you that we’ve got more of a shot than we would if we decided to just roll over and bare our throats.  Or if we decided to confront them head on.”

       Samedi hummed a little as he refilled Gabriel’s glass.  “There are some who have a plan too, you know.”

       “Oh yeah?”  He let his eyes travel out to the dancers.  Just because he considered himself to be on a very calorie-restricted diet didn’t mean he couldn’t take a glance at the menu; some of the dancers had gotten to be very friendly with one another.  That might have more to do with Samedi’s passive influence than anything else, he realized, but pretty people were pretty people no matter what and there was no harm in enjoying the view.

       “Of course.  We’re gods, my friend.  What would we be without petty scheming?”  He snickered and the men clanked their glasses together.  “Not that we’re in any position to judge; after all, I’m right here, with you, scheming.”  He drank.  “I heard from Kali.”

       The name didn’t hurt as much as it would have even a year ago.  “How is she?”

       “Angry.”  He rolled his eyes.  “I think she’d like to make fishing nets out of Lucifer’s tripes.”

       “Yeah, well, she’s never been a big fan of the Abrahamic crowd.  I can’t imagine she’s thrilled with the whole end of the world thing.”  He snorted.  “She always used to say, ‘If anyone gets to end this world, it’s me.’”

       “She’s got a point,” the Baron observed.

       “Several, and you do not want to meet them.”

       Samedi acknowledged this.  “The point is, she believes that if they can buy off the two archangels and convince them to take their fight off to Mars or something the world will be saved.”

       Gabriel paused, glass halfway to his mouth.  “That… doesn’t sound like her style.  What kind of currency does she think she can offer Michael and Lucifer?”

       “The vessels, of course.”  The dim light reflected off Samedi’s dark glasses for a moment.  “I thought that might be of concern to you.”

       “She doesn’t have them,” the angel coughed out.

       “No.  She doesn’t – yet.  There’s a plot to lure them to take shelter at a resort hotel and summon Lucifer and Michael there.”

       “That’s a terrible idea.  Michael doesn’t negotiate, he takes,” he explained, leaning forward.  “He takes and he orders.  He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t negotiate and he doesn’t tolerate questions.  And Lucifer – oh, Lucifer.  You don’t even want to know about Lucifer.  He won’t just kill Kali.  He’ll kill everyone around Kali but he’ll force her to live.”  He shivered.

       Samedi leaned back in his chair.  “She’s saying things about you, too.”

       “It was a messy breakup, Baron.  The Amak eruption up in the Aleutian Islands?  Yeah.  That was just one outward manifestation.  I’m sure she’s saying a lot of things.”

       “She’s saying you’re one of them, Loki.  Saying you’re an angel, part of the Apocalypse.”

       Gabriel froze.  “And you?”

       “You certainly spoke like someone who knows Michael and Lucifer very well.”  He shrugged then.  “I also know that you’ve never behaved like an angel, and I’ve known you since I went by another name on another continent.  You perform your duties.  You serve your followers.  You work for humanity.  I will not confirm her lies.”  He grinned.  “I was chosen to approach you because Kali is watching Heka and Anansi and Coyote.”

       The angel sagged back in relief.  “Thank you,” he told his friend.  “I turned my back on Heaven a very long time ago.  I haven’t been part of them in millennia.”  He sighed.  “I’m just as much pagan as angel.  I know not everyone sees it that way, but it’s the truth.  Listen.  That whole scheme – it may be Kali’s voice saying the words, but it’s not Kali’s style.  It’s more her way to use the boys as bait, threaten the vessels until the angels say ‘uncle,’ and get her way that way.”

       Samedi pulled his top hat a little lower on his head.  “That’s the truth,” he muttered.

       “The problem is that it won’t work.  She can’t acknowledge that they’re bigger, stronger than she is.  I get that, I do, but it’s going to get her and everyone with her ripped to shreds.”  He bit his lip and looked out again at the dancers.

       “Why do you care?  Angel or god, she doesn’t care about you anymore.  She’s been with Baldur for a hundred years.  And you have your new… arrangement now.  She’s actively trying to sabotage what you’re trying to do; why do you even devote half a second of your thought to her well-being?”

       He paused for a moment before responding.  It was a valid question and deserved careful attention.  “Yeah, we’ve both moved on.  And I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t return to her.  Not now, not ever.  But I still care for her.  It doesn’t matter how she feels about me now, the fact remains that she was an incredibly important part of my life for a very long time and I’ll always love her.  Even if we’re not together, and even if I love someone else now.”

       Samedi smiled, a genuine smile for all its skeletal qualities.  “So what do you plan to do about it?”

       He rubbed his chin.  “I don’t know.  But I know the right minds to set on it.  I’ll be right back – I need to make a phone call.”  He stepped outside and went to call Sam and Lindsey, filling them in on the situation.  Then he returned to the bar and to his conversation.  After all, he’d come here to connect, not to plot and scheme.

       Two days later he returned to South Dakota, with promises of assistance from Baron Samedi and a request bordering on the demanding that he bring Sam and Lindsey down to “meet the family.”  He wasn’t sure how willing he was to expose his little family to everything Baron Samedi had to offer – but then again, he couldn’t shelter them forever.

       If either Sam or Lindsey had any objections to going all hands on deck to save Gabriel’s ex neither of them said anything about it, at least not in front of the others.  Dean, of course, was glaring daggers at him but that could be because of Kali or because he’d taken off and triggered Dean’s abandonment issues or because today was Thursday and Dean just didn’t like Thursdays.  “So,” Bobby began.  Gabriel supposed he was taking point on presenting the information because he was the oldest human in the room.  “We think we know where this little shindig is going down, and maybe when although no one seems to be in agreement about that.”

       “Muncie, Indiana,” Castiel inserted.  “Often called ‘Middletown, USA because of the belief that it represents a perfect microcosm of Middle America.”

       “Thank you, Castiel,” Anael smiled tightly.  “There are four hotels that could provide what the gods are looking for, but only one is vacant: the Elysian Fields.”

       “Apt,” Gabriel mused.

       “It’s been empty for something like thirty years,” Lindsey explained, exchanging a glance with Anael, “but power company records show a recent spike in usage there.  It’s too recent for anyone to really take notice unless they’re looking for it, and unless someone does an audit at the end of the month I doubt that anyone will notice after the billing cycle.”

       “Been hacking into the power company, have you?”  He raised an eyebrow.

       She blushed.  “Um, I might have helped?  Brought some cocoa?”

       “Don’t worry about it, Lindsey.  It’s not a skill that every hunter has,” Bobby reassured her, patting her back.  “It’s not even a skill that most hunters have.”

       “Geek Boy is pretty unique that way,” Dean sighed, offering his brother a little smile.

       “Not for long,” Sam said with a little smile.  “I’ve been teaching Adam some tricks.  He already knows his way around networking, so getting into security systems isn’t a stretch.”  He glanced at John’s youngest son and was rewarded with a smile in return.  “Anyway, I heard from Heka.  He gave me a list of known conspirators.  It looks like most of them are getting closer to showing up, so I’m feeling like we’re probably running a little shorter on time than we could be.”

       Gabriel sighed.  He knew that trusting his family was the right plan, but the fact that they’d just gone ahead and pulled this much together this quickly sent a jolt of relief running right through him.  “Alright.  Any ideas on what to do?  We can’t stake them all, although you have my permission to do whatever you want to Baldur if he shows up.”

       “Oh, he’s showing up,” Dean told him with a sick grin.  “He’s already there.”

       Gabriel froze, then buried his face in his hands.  “I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to know how you know this.”

       “Gabriel, we knew that time was important, okay?” Sam tried, putting a hand on Gabriel’s arm.  “We wouldn’t do something just to piss you off.  You get that, right?”

       “Oh yeah.  Right.  I get that.”  He spoke through clenched teeth, and Sam picked up his hand and backed away.  Lindsey caught his eye and shook her head, just a little bit.  Crap.  He’d spooked Sam.  Well, there was nothing he could do about it right now.  He was upset, and he needed to convey his reasons to his lover, but he wasn’t going to air his dirty laundry in public.  “Let me guess.  The two of you already paid a visit.”

       “Angel warding,” Dean confirmed, edging his way between Gabriel and Sam.  “Don’t worry – specific angels are allowed on the premises.  Just not most angels.  You know, like your brothers who want to wear us like cheap suits.”

       “Say what you want about yourself, Dean-o,” he forced himself to say in as polite and calm a tone as he could, “but there is nothing even remotely cheap about Sammich here.  Alright.  So they won’t be able to summon either Lucifer or Michael.  I’ve been given to understand that they suspect at least that I’m an angel; I don’t think that they know which one.  Now all we have to do is to find a way to dissuade them from trying again.”

       “We could always just leave them locked in the Elysian Fields for, say, all time,” harrumphed Bobby.  “I mean, they wanted to hand you boys over.”

       Lindsey wrapped her arms around Gabriel.  “True.  But they’re just trying to survive, the same as us.  We need to convince them that they can.  I say that we go meet with them.”

       Gabriel spluttered.  “No.  I have a whole bucket of no here for you.  You want me to risk the Apocalypse – risk Sam – by dangling him out there for people who don’t give a good goddamn about him, and run the risk that someone will figure out a way to get word out to Lucifer?  Nuh-uh.  No way.”

       “So bring me,” Dean suggested.  “I’m expendable –“

       “Like hell,” Sam shot back, fire in his eyes.

       “As far as Gabriel’s love life is concerned I am,” Dean grinned.  “And I’m damn good in a fight.  You know I am.  Bring me and Anna.”

       “Not Anael,” Gabriel objected, rubbing his chin as Sam fumed.  “Too many angels.  Lindsey, do you feel up to paying a visit to that part of the family that apparently hates and wants to kill me?  Other than the other part of the family that hates and wants to kill me, I suppose.”

       Sam’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.  He turned on his heel and he walked out of the room.  Gabriel listened to him go and his heart broke a little, but he couldn’t focus on that right now.  “I’m in, I suppose,” she said slowly.  “But he’s the one with the superpowers.”

       “Sam can help mark you up with some protective sigils and stuff, like he did to himself before these two boneheads decided to go confront Michael.”  He gestured.  “We need to have a plan.”  He pulled his fingers out of his mouth when he realized he was biting his nails the same way Sam would.

       “I say we just head on in and talk to them,” Dean suggested.  “A lot can be accomplished just by talking.  Don’t tell Sammy I said that, dear God I’ll never hear the end of it.  But what if they don’t play ball?”

       “Which they won’t,” Gabriel asserted.  “Baldur has hated me ever since he sprang into being.  This whole setup has his slimy little fingerprints all over it.”

       “Then we evacuate.  Let them find a way out, whatever.  But we don’t give them what we want.”  Lindsey glanced at Dean.  “We don’t give them either vessel, and we sure as hell don’t give them an archangel to play with.  Sam can’t handle losing either one of you; losing both of you would break him.”

       The men glanced at one another.  “I guess that means we have to keep one another safe, then,” the angel told the hunter.  As though Dean could do anything to protect or harm him.  Then again, Sam had certainly surprised him in the past.  He wouldn’t get very far by underestimating Dean.

       “I suppose so.  I hate to say it, but you’ve been good for him.”  Dean looked away, one corner of his mouth twisting like it was painful to speak the words.  “I’m not sure why, because I’m pretty sure he hated you going in, but whatever.  You seem to give him something I couldn’t –“

       “I can give you an alphabetical list of activities,” Gabriel offered with a smirk.

       “Shut up, man, you’re ruining the moment,” Dean snickered.

       “You’re ruining my breakfast and that was two hours ago,” Bobby groused.  “How about if you figure out when you’re leaving and agree to meet up then?  I’m pretty sure the Boy Nobody Wanted is upstairs making plans to go do something heroic and stupid.”

       “Tomorrow, first thing?” Lindsey suggested.  Her skin paled, but that was the only outward reaction to Bobby’s comment.  She, too, preferred to keep things in-house apparently.

       “Sounds good,” Dean agreed, and they split up.

       Gabriel and Lindsey grabbed hands and raced upstairs, finding Sam in their bedroom stuffing some things into his duffel.  Bobby knew the young man well, for all that his preference was for Dean.  “Going somewhere, Sam?” Lindsey queried softly, stepping into the room, putting a hand on his arm.

       He froze, and Gabriel felt his entire being droop.  Jeez, he’d thought they’d gotten the kid over this.  “Uh, yeah.  We found Pestilence, remember?  I’m going to go and take his ring.  Figure I might as well get that done while you’re all saving the gods.”  He shrugged.

       “You guys found Pestilence?” Gabriel muttered to Lindsey.

       “Oh.  Yeah.  We were waiting for you to get home, Sam did the spell again to kill time.”  She gave a wry grin.  “It’s not a big deal.”

       “Sam,” Gabriel led.

       “I mean, I’m sure something can go wrong, that’s kind of how things work, but I’ll get the ring and then Death will give us the fourth.  We’ll be able to put Lucifer back.”  He nodded confidently.  “We’re all set.”

       “No, Sam.  One person – one mortal – can’t take on Pestilence alone.  I’m not sure that one immortal could take on Pestilence alone, but I’m not willing to lose you.”  He stepped closer to Sam.  “Look, Sam, you get that this is why I was upset with you, right?”

       “It’s okay, Gabriel.”

       “No.  It’s not.  It’s not because you’re spooked and you’re running and you’re looking to do something that’s suicidally reckless just because I said I wasn’t willing to bring you into a situation that’s specifically dangerous to you.  I mean, honey, think about this rationally for a minute, would you?”  He reached out and took Sam’s hands, moving slowly so as not to seem too aggressive.  “I love you.  I love Lindsey just as much, don’t get me wrong.  But neither gods nor angels want to do anything exceptionally unpleasant to Lindsey.  What they want to do to you is unspeakable.  So it’s okay for me to bring her with me and not you.”  He stroked Sam’s face.  “I’m not asking you to stay here because I don’t love you, I’m asking you to stay here because I love you too much.”

       Lindsey snaked her arms around Sam’s narrow waist.  “Sam,” she murmured.  “I love you.  I wouldn’t leave you anywhere near Anael or Castiel if I didn’t have to.  But you’re the one who is best able to keep Adam safe from them, and from Michael.  I want for us to go after Pestilence together, Sam.  Not because I don’t trust you to do it yourself but because I love you, and I want to be there to back you up.”

       “I was angry with you,” Gabriel informed his lover, pulling him down to face level, “because you went and risked your life with that stunt with Michael and Zachariah.   You let them hurt you.  And then you went and you risked your life with that stunt with the Elysian Fields.  You keep doing things that endanger you, and it scares me.  I need you here with me, Sam.  With us.”

       Sam offered a wry half grin.  “I’m not going to live forever, Gabriel.”

       “Bite your tongue,” the archangel retorted.  “Better yet, let me.”  He kissed Sam then, and led him to the bed.  Lindsey slipped under the covers alongside them.

       The next morning, Gabriel and Lindsey awaited Dean’s arrival at the Impala with coffee and doughnuts that the archangel fetched directly from a fantastic little bakery in Cohasset, Massachusetts.  Sam waited beside them, enjoying the coffee at least.  Dean’s breakfast was cold by the time that he got to the car, but that was okay – it just meant more time for canoodling and Gabriel did love to canoodle with Sam and Lindsey.

       He was almost disappointed when Dean did show up.

 

*

 

       Working directly with an archangel was worlds away different from working with a regular angel.  Regular angels were convenient – they could heal you up when some fugly tried to eat you, they could smite your enemies just by touching their heads, they could grab you and fly you out of harm’s way if you didn’t mind having to dose up on prune juice afterward.  Archangels, though - well, it seemed like there wasn’t much they couldn’t do.  Cas could fly them around here and there, and he was barely even an angel anymore.  Anna could fly farther and faster.  Gabriel?  Yeah, he could fly him, Lindsey and the Impala twenty miles outside of Muncie with a snap of his fingers and it wasn’t even a thing.

       Of course, they wouldn’t even have to go and mess around with a bunch of gods if Sammy hadn’t decided to start screwing the one archangel with a conscience, and when had the freaking Trickster developed a conscience anyway?  It sure hadn’t been when he’d been getting killed a gazillion times over.  “So.  You and Sam worked out your differences?”

       “You don’t think that’s kind of private?” Lindsey asked him.  The blonde had about as much use for Dean as she might for a scorpion in her shoe.

       “Not really,” he told her.  “I’m his big brother.  It’s my job to keep him safe, give the ‘big brother’ speech.  Considering that his last girlfriend turned out to be a lying piece of evil trash, I kind of feel like I have to make sure that anyone even looking at him knows I’ll rip their lungs out if they hurt him.”

       Both Gabriel and Lindsey gave identical snorts at that, and he had to admit that he’d done kind of a lousy job of taking care of Sammy.  Still, it was his job and no one else’s.  If he’d done it badly before it just meant that he had to do better now, right?  “So it looks like there’s a couple who were traveling this road last night – honeymooners – who never arrived at their destination.  Last that anyone heard of them was that a freak storm blew up from out of nowhere and they were going to seek shelter at a place they saw in the distance.  I’m betting it was the Elysian Fields,” Lindsey told them, checking her phone.  “Also, it looks like the security guard on duty last night never checked in from his rounds.”

       Sammy had found all that, Dean noted with pride.  “Security guard?” Gabriel queried.

       “Happens all the time with these old abandoned buildings.  They’re an attractive nuisance – kids want to go exploring and play in them, homeless people think they look like a good enough place to set up and squat.  The thing is they’re not structurally sound so it’s a major liability to have anyone in them.  The companies that own the property will hire security to watch ‘em until they get around to demolition.”  Dean shrugged.  “We’ve squatted in places like that a time or two.  Not a big deal.”

       Lindsey shivered.  “I guess it’s better than nothing, but still.”

       “You’ve both got a roof over your heads now,” the angel told them.  “Don’t worry about saving the civilians, okay?”

       “What the hell, man?”  Dean turned to his brother’s lover in disgust.  “I thought you were supposed to be one of the good guys now!”

       “Define good, kid,” Gabriel smirked back at him.  “You do get that some of my worshippers used to try to propitiate me with human sacrifices, right?  Anyway.  It’s not that I don’t care about the humans, it’s that I don’t think that there will be anything left to save.  Some of the gods on the list that Sam got out of Heka are known for their… um, specific appetites.  Baldur, for example.  He got the shinier reputation but believe you me, he snacked on eyeballs like chicken wings at Hooters.”

       Dean and Lindsey looked at the dash.  “Yuck.”

       “I know, right?  Never could get behind eyeballs as a snack food myself.  It was always just so… I don’t know.  Tacky.  I like snacks that are sweeter or that have more crunch to them.”  He shrugged.  “My advice would be to not eat anything at all.  Drinking is probably not in your best interests either – Lindsey, you’re safer than Dean-o, but you’re still human and all of those nasty stories and legends come from somewhere.”

       Dean thought for a moment about why Lindsey was safer than he was.  Then he decided not to think about it anymore.  “We’ve both got those… those whatsits that Sam painted on us, right?”

       “Sure do.  I’ve got some too, just in case and because it’s nice to have Sam sit there and paint on the naked body.”  The angel cackled at Dean’s glower.  “But why take chances that we don’t have to, you know?  We’re going into a very dangerous situation.  They can’t hurt me unless they find a way to bring Luci in.  They can hurt you.  Besides, Dean-a-rooni, your humanity is fairly important to you and it’s already been reclaimed once.  Cas can’t help you a second time.”

       Dean flinched at the reminder of his close call in Hell.  He hadn’t turned, but it wasn’t because of some great virtue on his part.  He hadn’t been fighting it, not once he broke.  That probably had a lot to do with why Sammy’s fall affected him so deeply.  “Alright, so we get in there, what then?”

       “You follow my lead and try not to piss anyone off.”

       Well that was easier said than done.  They parked the car in the lot, just like (apparently) quite a few other cars.  How many belonged to people who were now part of some kind of gross soup?  Dean’s stomach turned at the thought.  Lindsey’s face clearly indicated that her thoughts ran along those same lines.  The doors were sealed thanks to some kind of godly door-sealing ability – seriously, what was it with monsters and sealing the doors? – but that wasn’t a problem for Gabriel.  He just grabbed both humans and flew them inside.  It kind of made Dean feel a little superfluous, if he thought about it, which he tried to not do.

       They could hear arguing from the main ballroom.  That, then, would be the gathering of the gods.  It wasn’t like some other convention could be meeting at the same time, right?  The trio made their way toward the door, not even bothering to try to hide their presence.  It was an unusual feeling for Dean; he didn’t like it.  Once again the doors were sealed against them, but this time Gabriel just blasted through them and stepped through and into the path of all of the arguing gods.

       The divinities dropped back into stunned silence at the explosion of wood and cheap brass, giving Gabriel’s cheesy, “Can’t we all just get along?” an extra goofy ring to it.  Dean’s palms absolutely dripped with sweat as he stood a few paces behind the archangel, a little to the left.  Every eye in the place, every single one, was on the three of them.  He was peripheral at the moment and he knew it, that would bother him on a subconscious level later on, but right now he was trying to adjust to the fact that twelve different divinities were staring at him with varying degrees of hostility.  He’d met some gods – minor gods.  These were some major figures, powerful deities, and they all disliked him.

       He wasn’t getting out of this one, was he?

       “Loki,” greeted a guy who looked a little like a brunet Ken doll, all except for the sneer.

       “Good to see you too, Baldur.”  Gabriel tossed the guy a tight, u-shaped smile, the kind you gave when you were winning and didn’t give a shit anymore.  “Sorry I’m late to the party.  Guess my invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail.  Doesn’t matter.  The important thing is that I’m here now.”

       A woman came up beside Baldur, South Asian with dark skin.  She was probably the single most beautiful woman that Dean had ever seen, but she wasn’t the kind of beautiful that you built up a life with.  No, she was Helen of Troy beautiful, the kind of beautiful that destroyed empires and sank armadas.  Maybe it would have been more appropriate to say that Helen of Troy had this woman’s kind of beauty, terrifying and absolute and completely unattainable by anyone human.  “Loki,” she purred, one hand snaking over Baldur’s shoulder.  “How long has it been?”

       Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, but he showed no other reaction.  “Kali.  You’re looking lovely as ever.”  He gestured to the ballroom.  “You always did throw a good shindig.”

       “I’m afraid this is a private party, Loki,” Baldur seethed.  Dean noticed the way that Kali’s mouth turned up slightly at the corners.  She was enjoying her lover’s jealousy, he realized.  What was really going on here?  What kind of a game was this lady playing?

       “He did bring one of the vessels,” Kali pointed out, eyes running over Dean appraisingly.  “I suppose that we can let him stay.”   Everything inside of Dean was screaming, “Abort!  Abort!”  Something had gone wrong, but he couldn’t identify what it was, what had

       “We don’t need him,” Baldur asserted.  “We only need the bow-legged one.”  Dean found himself pushed into a chair and restrained, invisibly.

       Gabriel smirked.  “Mmm.  And what exactly are you going to do with him?  Huh?  Oh, let me guess.  You’re going to summon Michael and try to buy him off, maybe negotiate for some kind of protection or favorable treatment?”

       A few gods exchanged glances.  “Where is the other vessel?” asked another god, this one dressed like hotel staff.  His nametag said “Chet.”  Dean would have laughed at the idea of “The Mighty God Chet” if it weren’t for the soul-shaking terror.

       “Irrelevant,” Gabriel snapped.  “There’s not going to be a deal, dumbass.  Here’s what would actually happen, in reality.  The archangel of your choice would show up, look at you all and turn you into ash, take what he wanted and leave a smoldering wreck in his wake.”  He gave a thin smile.  “And that presupposes that you get the ‘good’ archangel.”

       A round-faced East Asian god – Dean was really beginning to regret the Western and Abrahamic focus of his education – rose to his feet.  “You’d know something about the differences, wouldn’t you, ‘Loki?’”

       “I’ve tangled with the winged ass-clowns a few times,” Gabriel replied evenly.  “It’s how I know that there will be no deal.  They don’t make deals.  They don’t respect you enough to make deals.”

       “You’re one of them!” accused another god, this one a grizzled old white guy with one eye.  Maybe Odin?  “I took you into my home!”

       “Buddy, I built your home.  And no.  I was  one of them,” Gabriel admitted.  “I’ve never failed to fulfill my obligations, I’ve had no contact until this whole mess started with my old family.  And if they get their hands on me they’ll treat me no differently than they will you.  So no – I’m not one of them.  Not anymore.  Let’s be real.  I’m not here to sit here and try to steal your thunder or try to get you to submit to some Abrahamic shit pile that was thrust upon you.  I’m trying to keep you from getting slaughtered.”

       Kali gave him a condescending little smile.  “Oh, you Westerners are so cute.”  She stepped forward and patted him on the cheek.  “Arrogant, but cute.  You think that you have the right to end this world that we all share, when that’s nowhere near the case.”

       The building began to shake.  “Shit,” Lindsey’s voice came from next to Dean’s ear.  “That’s not good.”

       Gabriel flinched and looked around.  “What did you do?” he asked Kali, fixing her with a terrible gaze.

       “Me?  Nothing.”  She looked to Baldur, who likewise claimed no knowledge of events.

       The Mighty God Chet, on the other hand, spread his hands wide.  Dean noticed, for the first time, plaster dust on his uniform.  “How was I supposed to know that we were only going to get one vessel?”

       Gabriel gaped.  “You summoned Lucifer.”

       A stunning black goddess’ jaw dropped.  “Hermes, you absolute dick.”

       “Oh come on, like I couldn’t see the archangel warding,” the traitor snorted. “Come on, Isis.  This is not my fault.”

       Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head.  “I am so staking your sorry ass if we survive this,” he vowed.

       An amazingly thin god with dark skin and a top hat approached and gestured to Baldur.  “The whole thing is off, Baldur,” he declared as Dean was released from his bonds.  “This is an unmitigated disaster.  We can’t have a confrontation with him!”

       A kind of flame, nothing like any fire Dean had ever seen before, began to develop around Kali’s hands.  “I can take an archangel throwing a temper tantrum,” she declared, all disdain and spite.

       “Get these two out to the car,” Gabriel snapped at the guy in the top hat.  “Stay with them until they get to the safehouse at least.  I’ll catch you up.”  He pulled his sword out of somewhere, Dean hadn’t ever figured out where angels stored their swords.

       The man encircled Dean and Lindsey’s wrists with his hands.  “Time to go, pretties,” he declared.

       “Loki, no!” Lindsey objected, but it was too late.  The trio was already in the Impala while a terrible light filled the hotel.

       “Drive the car, cher,” the man ordered.  “Loki, he’ll do his best to survive.”

       “And he just expects us to trust you?”

       “Of course.  Who do you think warned him that you were on the menu?”

       Lindsey relaxed slightly, although tears ran freely down her face.  “You’re Baron Samedi,” she identified.

       “In my car,” Dean objected.

       “Saving your pretty ass from the Devil, too,” Samedi pointed out.  “Now drive toward his pretty boy before Loki’s heroics are entirely superfluous, would you?”

       Dean drove.  He didn’t have another option.

 


	14. So Come Down From Your Mountain And Stand Where We've Been

Gabriel landed at Bobby Singer’s salvage yard eighteen hours later.  He brought Kali and Isis with him.  He hadn’t intended to burden the human with more guests, especially while he was still adjusting to his altered state, but as he took in the extent of the goddess’ injuries (to say nothing of his own) he realized that there was no place safer for them to recuperate.  He took several short-hop flights around the world, hoping to keep Lucifer off his back as he bounced but ultimately he wound up back where he wanted to be.

       His landing was not, however, clean.  His wings felt like they were about to fall right off of him, and he was pretty sure that if he took his shirt off someone would be blinded by his Grace.  The landing, therefore, dented an entire stack of cars instead of involving the simple setting down of feet.  At least neither woman was awake to see or hear or be harmed.

       He jumped to the ground, startled when physical pain resulted from the leap.  The noise of his arrival had brought the entire assembly running, so of course Sam and Lindsey were there to catch him as he fell forward.  Sam managed to hold both him and Kali up; Lindsey hefted Isis into arms that were surprisingly strong for their size by now.  “Gabriel,” she gasped, looking at him as Anael and Castiel and Dean bustled around.  Samedi came to take Kali from Sam, which freed him to take up the archangel.  “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

       “I’m not okay,” he had to admit.  “I’m not.”  

       Sam intervened then.  “Um, Dean, if you could get these… nice ladies, I guess… down into the panic room that would be great.  Adam has already put a third cot down there.  Baron Samedi, I’ve already mixed up some of those potions Heka worked with us to whip up.  Anna, would you mind carrying Gabriel upstairs?  Just put him down on our bed; that’ll be fine.  Cas, do you know of anything that would be helpful in helping him to heal?”

       “You can’t help an angel to heal, Sam,” Castiel told him, and Gabriel coughed painfully.

       Lindsey rounded on him.  “What are you talking about?  He’s got a stab wound.  It can be stitched up.”

       “Only by someone who is able to look at an angel’s true form,” Anael told her gently.  “I’ll take care of it once I’ve gotten him situated –“

       “It’s okay,” Sam objected.  “I’ll do it.”

       “Sam –“ Gabriel objected feebly.  He knew the kid was suicidally reckless, but this was beyond the pale.

       “Dude.  I was looking right at Lucifer when he got out of the Cage, alright?  No vessel, no filters, no nothing.  Pretty sure I can handle a few stitches.  What I really need from you right now, Cas, is to go and check the wards.  Not just on the building but on the whole property, okay?  I have the feeling that someone is going to come after them at some point and I’d like to make sure that we give him a nice firm ‘no.’”

       Gabriel beamed with pride, even through the pain of his injuries.  Azazel had manufactured a king, and here he was.  The falling angel obeyed his orders without question, and even Anael took her burden from her foe without complaint.  For Sam’s part, he disappeared for a moment to go find supplies before Gabriel saw him again.

       Gabriel’s shirt was cut away.  Castiel lurked anxiously behind Sam as the scholar prepared the area around Gabriel’s worst wounds.  He wasn’t sure what the younger angel was more afraid of – that Sam would lose his eyes in a terrible twist of hubris, or that Sam would somehow manage to harm Gabriel with a tiny piece of stainless steel and – “Is that dental floss, Sam?” he demanded, raising an eyebrow.

       “Hey, you’re not a Winchester until you’ve got a nice neat row of dental floss running up one side.”  He didn’t look directly at Gabriel, but splashed some whiskey on the largest wound.  “I’m glad you made it back.”

       “I couldn’t save them all,” he whispered, barely noticing as Sam began to sew.  He wasn’t sure that he wanted to be a Winchester, but he wasn’t going to bring that up right now.

       “You saved two.  Three, technically,” he added.  “You sent Samedi out with Dean and Lindsey, which saved him.  I’m triply grateful for that, because you saved Dean, and you saved Lindsey, and you saved Baron Samedi and he’s a pretty amazing guy.”

       “Do I need to be worried for your virtue, Sam?” he winced.  He already knew the answer, of course, but it was nice to hear sometimes.

       Sam scoffed.  “He’s straight.  And I’m faithful.  Always have been.  But he has a lot of knowledge, and he’s very fond of you.”

       Gabriel scoffed.  “He was fond of Loki.  I highly doubt that he’ll be quite so enthusiastic about winged me.”  He closed his eyes but opened them again, seeing only Lucifer tearing the pagans to shreds.

       “He’s been helping you this whole time, Gabriel.”  Sam moved on to a different injury.

       “His world’s ending too,” the angel retorted.  “It’s in his best interests to work together.  If we can pull this off he’s going to walk away and never look back.”

       Sam stopped moving for a moment; the tugging on the floss in Gabriel’s synthetic vessel ceased.  Then warm lips touched his softly, gently.  “I think you’re underestimating him,” Sam told him after a second.  “And yourself.  But me telling you that isn’t going to suddenly convince you; I know that from experience.”

       “You do, do you?”  Gabriel glared at his lover.

       “Sure.  There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t wake up and think, ‘Oh, they’re just doing this to keep me from saying yes to Lucifer,’ or ‘Oh, they’re just here because they don’t trust me to be off on my own and ending the world again,’ or, ‘They don’t really want me, they’re just trying to keep me from falling off the wagon.’”  He’d started stitching again.  “But the thing is, you guys show me, every day, how much you care.  I might wake up every day thinking or feeling that way but every day you and Lindsey… I guess you chase those things back into the corners of my brain.  You show me that I mean something to you, even though I am what I am and I’ve done what I’ve done.  So… I do get it.”  Gabriel heard the quiet huff, the gentle smile in Sam’s voice.  “Samedi will prove that he’s your friend, no matter what name you call yourself.”  His lips ghosted over a spot on Gabriel’s neck.

       Sam finished up the stitching, and Gabriel relaxed back onto the bed.  He didn’t sleep – he was an angel, angels didn’t sleep – but he needed rest to heal his injuries and that he got.  Apparently someone – most likely Castiel, given Anael’s surly feelings toward Sam – had told him that angels healed best through connection to the Host.  That couldn’t be provided in a ramshackle farmhouse in South Dakota, but Sam did the best he could.  He made sure that Gabriel was never alone.  Either Sam himself or Lindsey was with him at all times, sometimes both, and some form of skin contact was maintained.  It sounded absurd and Gabriel would have said that the idea was unworkable, but after twenty-four hours he was able to get up and walk around the house.  It still hurt, and he wasn’t going to be able to fly anywhere for a while, but at least he wasn’t stuck staring at the ceiling and cuddling.

       Walking around meant that he could be active again.  Bobby Singer and Sam had been cracking the books.  Singer grumbled without ceasing about turning his house into “a goddamn motel for the supernatural, boy” but Gabriel didn’t think he really minded; grumbling seemed to be more of his default setting.  “Least that angel girl of your brother’s can cook!”  And indeed, Anael had taken over the kitchen or at least part of it.  Where a garrison commander had learned the culinary arts Gabriel didn’t want to know but she seemed very disinclined to share duties with anyone but Dean.  That was fine; both Lindsey and Sam were useless in the kitchen.

       No angel could get into the panic room.  Gabriel probably could have done so if he’d really wanted – Sam had gone into a complicated and long-winded explanation that had made even his head spin – but Gabriel didn’t want to risk any of the warding on that place.  Isis and Kali were both recuperating down there, still unconscious.  Baron Samedi supervised their recovery using some kind of salve that he’d come up with years ago; it wasn’t like gods didn’t fight each other.  Both goddesses were still unconscious, but they seemed to be responding to treatment and would probably be able to move around in a day or so.

       Castiel helped Bobby and Sam with the research.  He also helped care for Gabriel, apparently at his own insistence, and cleaned.  Who knew that an angel was capable of cleaning so well?  Bobby Singer’s house hadn’t been this clean in decades.  Lindsey worked to try to track down Pestilence and monitor Lucifer’s activities.

       Now that Gabriel was awake, though, they could keep moving.  “I’m concerned about our brother,” he declared as they sat around the dinner table the first night of his being awake.  “The whole… the battle with the pagans has us needing to move up the timetable.  And we’re not ready to do that.”

       Singer’s eyes narrowed.  “What exactly do you mean by ‘move up the timetable’ here, Funny Business?”  He put his fork down.  “What kind of timetable are you talking about?  I get the feeling that there’s a lot you haven’t told us.”

       Lindsey cleared her throat and looked at her partners.  Gabriel nodded.  Sam swallowed, looking down at his plate, but gave a silent assent as well.  “There’s a way to get Lucifer back into the Cage,” she informed them.  “We need the rings of the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse to do it, but it’s doable.  We’ve got two; we just need to grab Pestilence’s.”

       Castiel squinted at her.  “Your math is in error, Lindsey.  Two plus one is three, not four.”

       Dean snickered, and Sam wiped at his face with a tired hand.  “One step at a time, Cas,” the younger Winchester sighed.  “It’s just that I think it’s going to be a lot more difficult to go up against Pestilence than it was against Famine or War.”

       Dean frowned.  “So, how exactly do you plan to find Pestilence, anyway?  Set a Petrie dish under a propped-up box with a string and wait?”

       Sam’s mouth twitched, like he was trying to hold back a laugh.  “That’s incredibly Bugs Bunny of you, Dean,” Lindsey offered, almost without judgment.  “I’m impressed.”

       “I’m an impressive guy,” the hunter declared, taking a forkful of pasta into his mouth and chewing.  “Seriously, though.  How?”

       Gabriel had to look away.  “We’ve got a couple of different ideas about that, Dean-o.  We were still running the numbers when this whole thing blew up, trying to figure out what would actually work before running off half-cocked and making things worse for everyone but you know – why fight it?”  He smirked.  “Speaking of which, have you three musketeers figured out a way to safely contain Michael and Raphael yet?”

       “What about Bobby?” Samedi teased.  “Which musketeer is he?”

       “Richelieu,” Lindsey replied firmly.  “Seriously, though.  From what I’ve been told, Heaven was every bit as eager to start the Apocalypse as Hell was.  If we don’t find a way to get Michael and Raphael to chill, we’ll be right back where we started from.”

       “We have someone looking into getting his hands on Heaven’s weapons,” Anael informed her in an even tone.  “It’s difficult to say exactly how he’s going to manage it, or what he’ll be able to take.  So I don’t think we can do any long term planning around it until we hear from him.”

       Gabriel made a face.  “Yeah, I’d feel a lot more comfortable about this whole thing if we had that side of things in hand.  I won’t lie – I was counting on some of those for backup in case the thing with the rings was a bust.”  Okay, he’d been counting on using a heavenly weapon as bait.  He still could have used it as backup if he needed to, right?  “Is there any way to get a status report from him?  Or, you know, to him?  He might not know what just happened.”

       “I’ll see what I can do.”  Anael bowed her head.  “And to find Pestilence?”

       “Location spell,” Sam shrugged.

       “It’s how we found Famine,” Lindsey added, seeing that her lover wasn’t going to contribute more to the discussion.

       Dean’s face darkened.  “Uh-huh.  And who was it that cast this spell?”

       “Me.”  Sam met his eyes.

       “Nuh-uh.  No way.  We don’t need to do it that way.”  He shook his head.  “We’ll do something else.”

       Gabriel felt himself sneer.  “Excuse me?”

       “I know where he learned to cast that type of spell and we’re not doing it.  My little brother isn’t doing any kind of demon magic, you hear me?”  Dean crossed his arms over his chest.  “We’ll find another way.”

       “While millions of people die of supernaturally-induced diseases,” Samedi scoffed.  “Diseases caused by a Horseman.  Diseases that could have been prevented if he’d been taken out.”

       “Sam’s soul’s already taken enough hits, thanks,” Dean objected.  “After everything he’s done – sleeping with a demon, drinking her blood – he can’t do anything, and I do mean anything, that puts him farther on that path.  That makes him even less human than he already is.  He can’t afford to lose any more of his humanity, do you understand me?”

       “And what makes you think you get to make that choice for him?” Gabriel asked in a low voice that he barely recognized as his own.  “Sam is a grown man.  He gets to make his own choices, Dean.”

       “Not if they’re the wrong ones.  Not if they turn him into a monster –“

       Sam got up and left the room.  Lindsey gave Dean a look of disgust and chased after him.

       Bobby shook his head.  “Boy, I ain’t sure what it is you want from your brother but you’re going to lose him for good.”

       “I just want what’s best for him, Bobby,” Dean whispered, looking at his plate.

       Samedi met Gabriel’s eyes across the table before one corner of his mouth quirked up into a sneer.  He touched his glasses, just barely.  Dean merited watching?  Sure, he was good for entertainment value sometimes but he was nothing if not loyal.  Of course, so was Samedi, and Samedi as an outsider to this crowd had probably picked up on something no one who was more familiar with it would have noticed.

       Later that night, Dean’s cell phone rang.  He looked at the number and went outside to answer it, which definitely seemed off to the archangel.  Dean wanted privacy for this call.  It wasn’t like the guy was working phone sex lines to raise some extra cash; even if he were doing that kind of work, Dean was the kind of guy who would take those calls from the dinner table or from the couch in front of the TV and to hell with anyone who judged him for it.  Gabriel thought it was one of his better traits, to be honest.

       So when Dean glanced furtively around the living room and skulked outside, Gabriel closed his eyes as though exhausted.  He didn’t turn invisible and fly after Sam’s brother.  Instead, he simply extended his senses.    At his core, he was just a multi-dimensional wavelength of intent, after all.  There was no reason that he couldn’t reach the wavelength on which the phone operated.

       And what he found – well, that was a revelation in and of itself.  “Hello, Dean.”  The voice was deep, a little gravelly, and dripped with a polished malevolence that could only come with one type of creature.

       “Crowley,” Dean greeted.  “What’ve you got?”

       “Sounds like the father of us all had a bit of a dust-up,” the demon on the other end purred.  If it was indeed Crowley – and Gabriel had no reason to think it was anyone else – then this was big news.  “He’s pissed.”

       “It’s Lucifer, jackass,” Dean told him.  Gabriel could envision him glancing toward the house as he spoke.  “He’s always pissed, isn’t he?”

       “More or less.  It’s not often that he loses his temper, though.  I hear he almost got his chilly little hands on you.” Crowley chuckled.

       “Let’s just get down to it, alright?  People’re gonna get suspicious about me ducking outside to take calls like this.”  Well, at least Dean acknowledged this.

       “Aw, not eager to admit who your partner in crime is?  Alright.  I don’t know exactly where the World’s Crankiest Archangel is.  Apparently he’s a little suspicious of my loyalties.  Or maybe he just isn’t all that fond of salesmen?  But I did get a line on the guy who’s been handling the Horsemen.  Well, the Horseman now, I suppose.  He’s possessing a vice president at Niveus Pharmaceuticals.”

       Dean paused.  “Okay, I get that we’re supposed to hate demons – present company sort of excepted, I guess – but this is the Apocalypse we’re talking about.  We don’t have time to exorcise some drug company exec.”

       Gabriel fought the urge to run out there and shake the elder Winchester.  “Leaving aside the whole ‘handler for the Horseman’ thing,” Crowley’s voice came back, tightness indicating clearly that he was having the same thoughts as Gabriel, “the only remaining piece on the board is Pestilence.  And this fellow runs a pharmaceutical company.”  He paused, waiting for Dean to do the math.  “Do you remember a certain little virus from, oh, about three years ago?  One that only your bigger little brother is immune to?”

       “Wait – you mean Croatoan?” Dean gasped.

       “Bingo.  I will bet my firstborn son that I Love Luci is cooking up something with Pestilence and the Croatoan virus.  I know the Colt didn’t work out – I don’t know why, and I honestly believed that it would.”

       “Doesn’t work on archangels,” Dean interrupted.  “I don’t know why.”

       “Huh,” Crowley sniffed.  “Who knew?  Anyway.  I still haven’t come up with a way to ice the Devil.  But it seems to me that a ‘hero’ like yourself would have a pretty strong interest in getting rid of the whole Croatoan thing.  What do you say that you and I pay this Tyson Brady, Eee-Vee-Pee a visit, hmm?  See what we can see?”

       Dean paused for a moment, but only a little.  “Yeah, give me a minute to grab Sammy and we’ll come meet up with you.”

       “No.  No way.  Just you, not Gigantor.”

       “The hell, Crowley?  You’re talking about dealing with a virus and he’s the only human alive with immunity.  It makes sense to bring him along, don’t you think?”

       “I don’t like him,” Crowley told him.  “I don’t like him, I don’t trust him, and his own temper issues with regards to demons are legendary already.  He’ll stab me, he’ll stab Brady and we won’t be any closer to finding out what we need to know about Croatoan.”

       “Valid,” Dean said after a moment.  “Tell me where to meet you.”

       “This should make you happy,” and the smirk in Crowley’s voice couldn’t be avoided.  “Las Vegas.  Not the strip, but the aura of debauchery should improve your mood even at that distance.”

       Dean considered.  “It’ll be about two days’ drive,” he said finally.

       Crowley rattled off an address.  “I’ll be waiting.”

       Gabriel pulled his hearing back in, fists clenched.  He wanted to smite Dean right where he stood – how dared he give Sam a hard time about anything he’d done, when there he was conspiring with the very demon to oversee all of the crossroads demons that Hell had to offer?  The one who had overseen his own deal, the one who had arranged for the Colt to be stolen from them?

       Dean, though – Dean didn’t respond well to direct confrontation.  He needed to realize his own hypocrisy, whether through humiliation or just staring it in the face.  Fortunately, Gabriel specialized in the teaching of lessons to humans.  He had for a while now.  He wouldn’t be able to fly for a while, thanks to Lucifer having stabbed right through one of his wings, but there were other ways to get to Nevada.  First, though, he needed to talk to his family.

       Lindsey was more upset than Sam was, but Gabriel could’ve predicted that.  Sam just got this kind of faraway look on his face and sighed.  “I’m sure he’s got his reasons.”  When Gabriel revealed the name of the Niveus VP who had been possessed, however, Sam’s entire demeanor shifted.  “I’m going,” he declared.

       “I take it that you know him?”

       “We knew each other pretty well, in college.”  Sam huffed out a laugh.  “Dated through part of freshman year, beginning of sophomore.  And he introduced me to Jess.  If he’s possessed – I mean, yeah.  I owe him.  I need to save him.”

       Gabriel snorted.  “Yeah, okay.  Temper issue my ass.”

       This was going to require a multi-step plan, and the first part of it was finding his quarry.  Dean was hidden from him.  Crowley, too, proved difficult to track down.  Not impossible, but difficult.  The demon occupying Tyson Brady’s body, on the other hand – he had a corner office with his name on the corporate directory.  Niveus also actually existed, as a proper corporation, which meant records and an online calendar.  That, in turn, meant that Sam could find him fairly easily.

       Next came travel.  Gabriel still couldn’t fly, but Anael volunteered to help out.  “I’m not going to argue with you about Dean’s assessment of Sam,” she told him, “but I’m not comfortable with him trusting this ‘Crowley.’  It’s only going to end in disaster; that’s what comes from trusting in a demon.”  She wrinkled her pretty nose.  “I’ll help you any way that I can.”

       He grinned at her.  “I’ll give you a call when I’m ready for you to fly the others over,” he said, and they flew to Vegas.  Gabriel made his preparations, and he set back to wait.

       Of course Crowley wasn’t on the up-and-up.  He sent Dean in alone, with some cockamamie story about selling the rings back to Brady that Brady didn’t fall for because Brady didn’t have string cheese for brains.  Seriously, what was Dean thinking?  The demon mopped the floor with the hunter, battering him right back out to the elevator, all the way down to the lobby and then out to the door.  Only then, when it became apparent that Crowley had slaughtered the security guards, did the so-called King of the Crossroads act.  He bound Brady with bespelled handcuffs and threw some kind of devil’s-trap burlap sack over his head, effectively capturing him.

       Together, they bundled Brady into the trunk of the Impala and drove off into the night.  They didn’t stop until they reached an abandoned house in an abandoned subdivision, the kind of place that the Winchesters loved and of course that had been where they went.  Gabriel’s eyes narrowed; the place had some impressive warding on it.  Maybe Crowley was being truthful with them after all, because there was no way that this wasn’t intended for Lucifer as well as his loyalists.  Huh.  “Anael,” he prayed.  “Bring Sam and Lindsey, please.”

       The redhead obeyed, staying with them to ensure that her lover could be safe.  Gabriel made no objection; he liked her aside from the whole “got to kill Sam” thing, which had been the result of torture anyway.

       Inside the house, Dean and Crowley started questioning their prisoner.  Who laughed at them.  It was kind of pathetic, if Gabriel were being honest.  The King of the Crossroads couldn’t persuade an answer out of the guy, and Alastair’s favorite apprentice couldn’t frighten one out.  The blond man just sneered, and mocked.  Now was the time to reveal themselves.

       The quartet walked in, Gabriel in the lead.  “Working with a demon, Dean-o?” Gabriel demanded.  “That’s kind of… well, hypocritical, really.  But I’m sure you’ve got a fantastic explanation.”

       Crowley had gone red in the face when he’d seen the intruders, although his eyes bulged in a very different way when he caught sight of Sam.  “What in the bloody hell are these people doing here?” he snarled at Dean.  Brady laughed.  “I told you to come alone!”

       “I came alone!” Dean roared.  “I have no idea why they’re here!”

       “Oh, we came to watch you wallow in your shame.”  Lindsey’s grin showed all of her teeth.  “Really, Dean?  You know this is the demon who had to approve your contract, right?”

       To his credit, Dean hesitated.  “Doesn’t matter.  As long as we get results.”

       “Mmm-hmm.  And when Sam worked with a demon to get results, you punched him in the face and called him a monster.”  Gabriel spared a glance for Brady.  “I noticed how far you’ve gotten with Ken Doll here.  How you doing, there, Black Eyes?”

       “Oh, I’m swell.  Who’re you again?” the demon sneered.

       “Call me Loki.  These guys here think you’re cooking up a batch of Croatoan virus.”

       “And?”  Brady’s voice was like an oil slick.  Gabriel wanted a bath just from being near it.  “Maybe I am.  Maybe I’m not.  Either way there’s nothing any of you can do about it.”  His eyes darted to Sam.  “Not that you’re going to want to for much longer there, Stretch.”

       Sam’s twisting of the mouth was probably supposed to resemble a smile.  “How long have you been in him?”

       “Long enough.”  The demon smiled, vicious and bright.  “I’ll give you a clue.  Tyson Brady didn’t break up with you.”

       To his credit, Sam didn’t react beyond blinking a couple of times.  “Seriously?  Sophomore year?”  Gabriel could feel the tension in him, but that was just because of the way he was shielding the man from Lucifer.

       “Oh yeah.  See, you’re pretty.  I’m not going to lie, the idea of bringing you into the fold, presenting you to Azazel in a nice purple bow and nothing else – now, that would have appealed to me.  It did appeal to me.”  He laughed, dripping contempt.  “All that idealism, warring with that loneliness, all wrapped up in that perfect little body!  But see, Azazel couldn’t have that.”

       Gabriel extended his senses as Brady monologued.  He could read the surface emotions of his companions without exerting himself.  Sam, of course, he could read loud and clear – horror, guilt, shame.  Lindsey, too, was easy, offering a profound grief and love of Sam that mirrored Gabriel’s own.  Dean was throwing confusion, disgust, discomfort, a desire to defend someone.  Anael, much to Gabriel’s surprise, likewise wanted to defend Sam.  She was fighting a powerful urge to smite the demon to stop his mouth.  Crowley radiated stark terror over a calculating interior, trying to figure out a way to gain some advantage from this.

       The thing was, deep inside Crowley Gabriel could still sense the literary agent the demon had taken over.  He was screaming and terrified and disgusted by everything that had gone on, but he still existed.

       And Brady – Brady, for all his intelligence, had no idea what he was dealing with.  He just sat there and felt smugness.  He was tied to a chair, immobilized in a devil’s trap by people who wanted him dead, and he was feeling smug.  “My orders weren’t to be your friend, and they weren’t to be your lover, Sam.  You were such a nice guy.  So gentle.  So loving.”  He pursed his lips.  “We needed you out on the road, honing your skills.  Building all that anger.  So –“

       “Jess,” Sam interrupted, and his soft voice cut through the room as loud as if he’d used a megaphone.  “You introduced me to Jess.”

       Brady was so proud of himself.  “Best work I’ve ever done.  You two were so in love it was honestly sickening.  I literally could not wait until the day I got the order.”

       “Wait – I thought it was Azazel who killed Jessica,” Dean frowned, pale.

       “Oh, he gave the order,” Brady admitted freely.  “I got to have all the fun part.  Put her up on the ceiling, cut her open just like mommy dearest, light her up.”  His smile was slow, almost sweet.  “Her last thoughts were of you, just so you know.”

       The only sound was of Sam, breathing deeply.  “He has information we need, you giraffe,” Crowley snarled.

       “There isn’t a living soul in that body,” Gabriel whispered urgently.  “Tyson Brady is long gone, Sam.”

       An icy calm settled over the tall man then as he drew himself up to his full height and raised his hand.  “Good.”

 

*

 

       “Good,” Sammy said and raised his hand, and God it was just like the kid had shut down.  Just like he used to when he’d been fighting with Dad about hunting, or about moving yet again, or about school.  It was that kind of calm that he got when he’d chosen a course of action and absolutely nothing was going to change his mind.

He fixed this Brady character with his kaleidoscope eyes and spoke again.  “You have one chance.  Tell me about the Croatoan virus.”

“Or what, sport?  You’ll kill me anyway?  It’s not like you’re going to let me go now that I’ve see your little traitor ally here.  But at least I’ll go knowing that I’ve done everything I can to bring Hell on Earth.”

Sam clenched his fist and Brady screamed.  “It’s not so much the dying,” he explained in a conversational tone that somehow managed to be heard over screams that made the lights flicker.  “It’s what comes first.”  He released his fist.  “Feeling a little chattier?”

Brady wasn’t.  Not yet.  Dean walked outside, pursued by Anna and Gabriel.  “I can’t sit there and listen to that,” he told the angels, sitting heavily on the Impala’s front bumper.  “I just can’t.”

Anna touched his face.  The marks of the beating Brady had given him disappeared.  “I know.  It reminds you of… before.”

He nodded, grateful to not have to say it.  “I mean, I was prepared to put the hurt on him.  I was.  But to see Sammy doing it, and using his freak powers to do it –“

Gabriel, little bastard that he was, shrugged.  “Shouldn’t have put him in this situation in the first place, kiddo.”

Dean stood up, getting right into Gabriel’s’ face.  “I put him in this situation?  I did?  Oh hell no.  You’re the one who flew him out here –“

“And you’re the one who worked with a demon!” Gabriel hissed back at him.  “You.  You made that choice, after everything you’ve said to Sam about what happened with Ruby.  Now you come out here and you work with that sack of crap?”

“He’s come through for me before,” Dean shot back.

“Mmm-hmm.  So did Hell’s Little Sweetheart, if I remember correctly.  Look.  I get that you have to take information where you can get it but running around with this guy?  Paling around with him like… like he’s your best bud?  And rejecting your brother to go do it?  No.  Sorry.”  He shook his head.

“You have no right to judge me,” Dean objected.  “I needed to get this information – if this Croatoan virus gets out you’ll walk away just fine.  I won’t.”

“Oh, Deanie, I’m sure Michael will give you plenty of protection.  Or just bring you back when he’s ready for you.”  Gabriel gave Dean a grin and wandered away to wherever angels went.

The screaming stopped far sooner than Dean would have expected.  Sam emerged with Lindsey and Crowley.  “What about the Blond Bombshell in there?” Dean asked, shifting.

“Dead,” Sam said simply.  “The virus is being disguised as flu vaccines.”

“Pestilence has been spreading flu,” Lindsey commented, shaken but not out.  “I guess it makes sense.  Brilliant.”

“So you just killed him?” Dean squeaked.

“Yeah, Dean.  I killed him.  The guy I knew is dead, there wasn’t any human in there to save, so I killed him.  I didn’t torture him any more than I had to get the information you were so willing to work with demons to get.”  His tone was flat, dead, and for a moment Dean was reminded of that time right after the fire, when Sam had only just lost Jess.

“You okay, man?” he asked, reaching out with one hand.  It didn’t quite make it, and Sam didn’t move forward.

“No.  No, I’m not okay.  Jess was hooked up with me for no reason other than to die.”  He paused.  “She was hooked up with me for no reason other than to die, so that I would react in a certain way.  Which… I mean, I did.”

Lindsey took him into her arms.  “Sam,” she said softly.  She stood a good foot shorter than him but right now she didn’t look like it, she just looked like she was holding him up with all the strength in the world.  “It’s okay.  You were in love.  Are in love.  You love Jess, it’s okay that you reacted the way that you did.”

And damn it, Dean should not be jealous of Lindsey right now.  He’d given up that role, that place for Sam.  He wanted it though.  He wanted to be the one that Sam was leaning on, the one that his brother turned to for comfort.  “You couldn’t have known, Sammy,” he told his brother, putting a hand on his back.”

“It doesn’t matter what I could and couldn’t have known.”  Sam straightened up, eyes red.  He wasn’t about to show such weakness in front of Crowley, which Dean supposed was better late than never.  “The fact is that she died for no reason other than because I loved her.  To further a goddamn plot, to move me along.”  He turned to Lindsey again.  “What if that happens to you?  Or Gabriel?  Or both?”

She smiled softly and stroked his face.  “We knew what we were signing up for, Sam.  You made sure of it.  Now come on.  Maybe Anael will be kind enough to bring us home.”

**Anna kissed Dean, and Dean found himself left with nothing but Crowley and the car.**


	15. 'Cause I Know That Time Has Numbered My Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pestilences are cured. Swans sing.

Gabriel had to admit that the plan was ingenious.  He’d have expected nothing less of Lucifer, honestly.  He’d seen that Gabriel’s team was targeting the Horsemen, so he divided the attack.  Pestilence was only spreading flu – simple, basic, plain old flu.  Of course, try telling any of the millions killed between 1918 and 1919 that influenza was “simple” or “basic”’; you’d probably get an earful.  But they hadn’t had a truly nasty strain in close to a century now, thanks to the wonders of modern medicine.

            Which was where Brady’s demon, and the company for whom he worked, came in.  Lucifer had two goals, after all: to defeat Heaven, and to end what he termed “the human stain upon our Father’s earth.”  As influenza spread – and reports had it showing up as one of those exceptionally nasty strains that cropped up every so often – people would panic.  As they panicked, they sought vaccines.  With each injection, they would get a nice syringe full of Croatoan virus.  The Devil wouldn’t have to sit back and wait patiently for the virus to follow a natural outbreak pattern.  He’d have people lining up and begging – demanding – to get their dose.

            It was brilliant.

            This, of course, created a problem for the team.  Gabriel waited in South Dakota with Lindsey and Anael for Sam and Dean to return from Vegas, a two-day trip.  Privately, Gabriel thought that maybe leaving Sam alone with Dean right now was not the wisest move but Anael didn’t feel that her powers of flight were up to carrying so many and Sam kind of insisted on riding back with his brother.  Gabriel had always suspected a certain masochistic streak in the guy, but hey – if this was what he wanted, he would get it.

            The forced hold on planning gave him time to recuperate and to check on the others.  Kali and Isis rose the day after their return, reporting lingering feelings of weakness but otherwise general health.  That stuff Samedi and Sam had whipped up must be decent, then.  Both goddesses indicated their willingness to join in the fight against the Apocalypse, on the side of Gabriel and humanity.  They weren’t happy about Gabriel’s deception, but they understood now that he was the one with the best chance to fight against his brothers and that appeasement would get them nowhere.

            Kali gave Gabriel some concern.  She spent a lot of time watching Lindsey before she approached.  On the one hand, she really should have moved on by now.  By all indications she _had_ moved on, shacking up with Baldur and trying to take over Asgard.  Why, then, would she have any interest at all in Lindsey?  Gabriel would have been a fool if he’d said he wasn’t nervous, and Gabriel wasn’t a fool.  He kept a close eye on his lover, not wanting to give Kali an opportunity.

            In retrospect, he should have had more faith in the goddess.  After a full day of watching the blonde, Kali finally approached her.  Gabriel watched from across the room, where he ostensibly read through one of Bobby’s more exciting tomes to “correct” it.  “He loves you,” the divinity intoned finally.

            Lindsey had been sitting down in front of her laptop, scanning for data about flu outbreaks and vaccine shipments.  “Yes,” she said after a moment, meeting Kali’s eyes squarely.  “Yes he does.  And I love him.”

            “Loki – Gabriel, I’ve learned – could have anyone he wanted.  He could have any god, in any pantheon.  He’s had Oberon, King of Faerie.  And Titania.  And yet he chose you.”  Her face remained perfectly neutral, moving only enough to allow her to speak.

            “It’s true.”  Lindsey didn’t falter.

            Silence filled the room.  No one breathed.  Then, “You must be an exceptional human.”

            Lindsey grinned.  “I have my moments.”

            Kali relaxed.  “Show me what you’re looking for.”

            Sam and Dean returned to Singer Salvage that night, both exhausted but unbruised.  They walked in sync, too – about as close to the brothers that had first captured Gabriel’s attention as they’d been in years.  “I guess being cooped up in a tiny space for two days is good for some things,” the archangel muttered to Baron Samedi and Bobby Singer.  The god had taken a liking to the salvage yard owner.

If Bobby had noticed the quality of his alcohol improving slowly in the days since the Baron had joined them, he hadn’t said anything.  He just seemed happy to have someone to sit and drink with him.  “Glad it’s good for something,” he rumbled back.

Sam reached out and squeezed Dean’s shoulder before letting Gabriel and Lindsey steer him upstairs, where they subtly encouraged him to shower and crawled into bed with him.  He let them kiss and caress him until his face lost some of that deep grief.  It wasn’t much, but it was the only consolation that Sam’s lovers could offer him.  He had lost, and his loss had been a gaping wound in him.  The wound had scabbed over time, but his encounter with the demon wearing his former lover’s skin had not only re-opened the wound but widened it, rubbed salt in it.  Maybe, as they made love that night and basked in the afterglow, Sam’s kisses seemed a little desperate or his eyes seemed to be particularly intense, committing their faces to memory.  Gabriel couldn’t blame him.

The next day, though, there was no time for softness or vulnerability.  Sam slept in a bit, but he rose as ready as anyone to get down to business.  Isis filled the brothers in on what the team had learned during the long drive, and the brothers nodded as though they’d come to basically the same conclusions.  “I think we’re going to have to split squads,” Sam suggested.  “Half of us going against Pestilence, half against the virus at Niveus.”

“Sammy, you’ll have to be part of the crew at Niveus,” Dean recommended, a line appearing on his forehead.  “You’re the only mortal person here who’s immune.”

“I’ll go with him,” Samedi volunteered.  “I have some ideas about ways to clean out the warehouse.”  He grinned at Gabriel.  “If things go right, the demons won’t know what hit them.”

“I’d like to be part of that,” Isis added quickly.  “I’m a goddess of healing; I find the idea of a human-slaughtering virus repugnant.  And, I think, Bobby Singer.”

Bobby blinked.  “Me?  What do you want me around for?  I’m useless.”

“You’ll never be useless, Bobby,” Sam retorted quickly.  “Your mind alone is worth any three of us combined – you’ve got tons of experience and you know how to set up an operation like this.”

Gabriel winced when Sam boasted about a mortal in front of a god.  Even though he was doing it about someone else, gods tended to have certain views about that sort of thing.  In this case, though, Samedi and Isis just smiled.  “It’s true,” the latter explained, putting a hand on the elder hunter’s arm.  “The Baron or I would be likely to smash through whatever was going on with brute force, while Sam here isn’t even a century old yet.  He’s got a lot to learn.  You’re wise, though, and have held steady through any number of attacks on a larger scale than this.  You’ll know when to attack and when to hold back.”

“Besides,” Samedi grinned.  “You know how to drive the van.”  He clapped Bobby on the back.

“I guess that means I’m taking on Pestilence,” Dean declared.  Gabriel didn’t think he was imagining the little sigh that came with it, the wistful glance at his brother.  “Alright.  Who’s in?”

“Oh, Dean-a-rino, you’re getting an all-angel squad,” the archangel snickered.  “This is a Horseman.  I’m not having you go up against this guy with anyone who can be affected by the kind of cooties he’s throwing around.  Bad enough that he gets a crack at you; at least between the bunch of us we should be able to keep you relatively healthy.”  He glanced at his fellow angels.  Castiel barely merited the designation anymore.  His Grace was the tiniest sliver, hardly a glow deep within Jimmy Novak’s stolen form.  Only his wings, and that tiny sliver, qualified him as part of the Host.  Nevertheless, Castiel was a more-than-capable warrior and he could not get sick.  He would be immune to Pestilence.  Probably – he hadn’t been able to ward of Famine’s influence.

“I’ll be joining you,” Kali declared.  “I’m a warrior.  I’m hardly made to sit here and count mice.  Besides,” she added with half a smile, “I’m still feeling the powerful urge to destroy something.”

“Right.  So Kali’s on the team.”  Gabriel smiled brightly.  It might have been a while, but he knew better than to stand in her way when she felt the need to let loose on something.  He didn’t want to, at this point.

“What about us?” Lindsey wanted to know.  She gestured to Adam.

“You’re going to stay here,” Dean told her, turning to face her.  “Both of you.”

She was on her feet in a second.  “The hell we are!  What exactly gives you the right to decide something like that, huh?  What makes you think that you get to decide if I fight or not?  I’ll have you know that I went up against Famine with your brother, I took on a draugr –“

Sam held up a hand.  “Lindsey, you’re amazing,” he told her, stepping forward to kiss her lips.  “And there’s nothing that I’d like more than to have at least one of you with me when we go into this.  And I’m sure Gabriel feels the same way.”

Gabriel met his eyes and nodded.  “Of course.  And Dean-o might not know what you’re capable of but we sure as hell do, okay?  But here’s the thing.  Adam’s a vessel for Michael, which means he’s in danger.”

“They can’t find him here by supernatural means,” Kali continued, “but that doesn’t mean that they’re stupid.  They can probably guess where he’s gone.  You have been hunting, you have been training.  Him?”  She snorted.  “He’s squishy.”

Adam paled.  “Squishy?” he objected.

“You’d prefer ‘easily ground into a powder?’” the destroyer asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No ma’am.”  Adam, for all of the attitude he gave his brothers and their lovers, seemed to know better than to push Kali.

“So you want me to stay here to guard Adam.”  She looked down for a moment, but then she looked up and nodded.  “Got it.”

“We need for you to stay here to keep our little brother safe,” Sam corrected gently, “and because someone has to know how to get rid of any angels that get past the warding.”

She grinned at that.  “Good point.”

“A very good point,” Adam emphasized.

Sam worked his magic spell to find Pestilence, and in a twist that didn’t really surprise Gabriel at all he found that the Horseman was hanging around in a nursing home somewhere in the same city that housed the warehouse holding the tainted flu vaccines.  Thankfully, Davenport, Iowa was only six and a half hours’ drive from Sioux Falls.  Sure, they could’ve flown but that would make a simultaneous attack difficult to coordinate, and of course Gabriel’s wings were still shot anyway.

Riding for six and a half hours in the Impala was not the joy and wonder that Gabriel had wanted it to be, had been expecting it to be.  Had Sam really grown up like this?  Well, no, of course he hadn’t.  He’d grown up with three people in total in the car, not three adults crammed into the back seat.  To be sure, no one would have been complaining about the music either.  Neither John nor Dean, once the car had descended to him, would have allowed it.  By about the third time that Metallica’s “Black” album played all the way through, however, Gabriel’s teeth were on edge.  Neither of the other angels appeared to have noticed, but they had been living with Dean and his little ways for longer.  Kali, on the other hand, had developed a slight tic in her left eye.

Gabriel cleared his throat.  One minute later, not a second before, the cassette player stopped working.  Dean tried to eject the offending tape, but the plastic casing came halfway out and wouldn’t move an inch further.  He pulled.  It stayed.  He pushed.  It stayed.  “Anna,” he said to his lover, who had the shotgun position, “see if you can’t make this thing work, would you?”

Anael made some token attempts to move the cassette, but had no success.  Gabriel caught her eyes in the rearview mirror, just for a moment.  “Sorry, Dean.  I think it’s going to have to wait until we get back to Bobby’s.”

Gabriel glanced at Kali, whose straight face proved that she too was the stuff of heroes.

Pestilence had set up shop in a nursing home, which seemed reasonable.  No one would blink twice at an outbreak of infectious disease in a nursing home.  You had a perfect breeding ground for that kind of thing there – a vulnerable population with lowered immune systems, people coming in and out all day who had been exposed to any number of external pathogens, just enough turnover to keep the mutations exciting.  Figuring out who the Horseman was didn’t exactly prove easy either.  He could have been a patient, a caretaker, even a janitor.  The Horseman could have been any of them.

Kali wanted to destroy the entire building, just to be on the safe side.  Pestilence alone would emerge safely, proving his identity and giving them the chance to kill him.  Anael and Castiel shuddered at the loss of human life, but rationalized that Pestilence had already ravaged these people’s bodies so badly that they were unlikely to recover; at least this way they were unlikely to spread whatever germs had been forced on them by the Horseman into the wider world.

It was Dean, ultimately, who offered the practical and humane solution; Dean who proved the angels’ Father right.  “Dude,” the hunter drawled.  “The place is loaded up with security cameras, right?”

“Most places are,” Gabriel acknowledged.

“So almost all supernatural creatures affect electronics in some way.  We watch the screens, we’ll see who our boy is.”  He grinned slightly.  “Don’t worry, sweetheart.  You can unload on his nasty ass all you want once we get the ring.”

Kali favored Dean with a contemptuous snort but made no objection.  “It’s the best idea I’ve heard yet,” Gabriel declared after a moment’s thought.  “I say we give it a try.  We can always make with the smashing later.”

Anael knocked the guards out with a touch to their foreheads; they would wake after everything was over.  Dean and Gabriel sat behind the security desk to watch the monitors.  After about five minutes of watching some very sick old people shuffle around and cough without covering their mouths, they figured out who their quarry was.

The home had a doctor, a creepy-looking fellow on the late side of middle age.  Every time he walked past a camera a band of static obscured the middle part of the monitor to which that camera was linked.  Someday, if they all survived, Gabriel vowed to find out why supernatural creatures had that effect on electronics or to convince someone else to figure out why supernatural creatures had that effect on electronics, but for now he was grateful.

The actual fight with Pestilence proved to be somewhat anticlimactic.  There was only one attacker that the Horseman could fight, and that was Dean.  Poor Dean had to suffer through smallpox, tuberculosis, whooping cough and syphilis all at the same time as the monster did his damnedest to save his own skin.  It didn’t work.  Anael simply healed the diseases, thoroughly immune in her body that had never been human.

Gabriel had been worried about Castiel, of course, but apparently that little sliver of Grace was enough to keep him healthy through the onslaught.  The guy had enough to worry about without dealing with that fun cocktail of pain; just as Famine before him, Pestilence had a handful of demon bodyguards sent by Lucifer himself.  These bodyguards acted now to defend their master, and these were not Stunt Demon 543 material either.  These demons were able fighters and they knew how to come at an angel.  Castiel held his own, though, silver blade flashing as it caught the light just so.

Gabriel mostly concentrated on Pestilence alongside Kali.  They’d fought together centuries ago, and being immortal the intervening time seemed to fall away as their bodies remembered how the other one worked.  Neither one of them was up to full power yet while the Horseman certainly was, but the two of them together certainly made a nigh-unstoppable force.

In the end, Pestilence couldn’t stop them.  Few people could, other than an archangel.  Pestilence wound up on his back, with Gabriel holding him down at the neck.  Kali grabbed his ring finger and broke it off with a crunch that made even Dean flinch.  Then, her arms began to glow.  “Time to run,” Gabriel warned the others.  And they did.

After the fight they drove back to Sioux Falls.  Gabriel relented and allowed the radio to work, but only the AM channels and only the news channels.  No one commented on that; no one had anything to say about the fact that somehow they kept getting a perfectly clear signal out of Davenport long after the point when they should have started picking up nothing but cows, either.  Finally, about three hours into their trip, they got something.

“In news out of Davenport,” a woman’s voice declared in a panicked tone, “an apparent terrorist attack on a Niveus Pharmaceuticals warehouse has the entire nation questioning the safety of our vaccine supply chain.  Witnesses say the terrorists tampered with a large shipment of badly-needed influenza vaccine, but that federal agents thwarted the attempt at the last minute.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers.  The radio turned itself off again.  “They made it,” he said, leaning heavily against the back seat and grinning widely.  “They did it.”

“I hope they got all of it.”  Anael bit her lip.  “It wouldn’t take much of the virus leaking out to start a catastrophe.”

“Sammy would have gotten it all,” Dean declared with a grin.  Gabriel relaxed.  The grin had no hesitation about it, none at all.  “He knows what he’s doing.  When it comes to cleaning out of a crime scene, or making a building go away, no one’s better than Sammy.”  Kali looked affronted, but said nothing.

Lindsey and Adam were still in the panic room when they got back, playing poker.  The Croatoan team arrived only a couple of hours behind them, with Bobby walking in the door instead of rolling and wasn’t that a pleasant surprise?  He must have driven with a lead foot to get back to them and show off the good news.  Isis and Samedi beamed behind him.  “It took some doing to figure out a way around Zachariah’s block,” Sam explained tiredly, “but they managed it.”

Gabriel looked at his lover.  Sam was pale, had more than a few cuts and scrapes and little burns.  Gabriel healed those with a pass of his hand, but he couldn’t do much for the exhaustion radiating off of him.  “You feeling okay, Sam?” he asked.

“Demons,” Bobby told him.  “Plenty of ‘em.  Sam dealt with them, but it was kind of touch and go there for a while.”  He put a hand on Sam’s arm.  “I’m proud of you, boy.”  He grinned then, subtracting almost twenty years from his face.  “I’m going to go run up and down the stairs about twenty times now, just because I can.”

Gabriel’s wings could handle a short flight, so he retreated upstairs and grabbed the other rings.  “Alright,” he sighed.  “Let’s see them together, shall we?”

Nothing happened to indicate the fourth Horseman’s arrival.  There was no rush of cold air, no sudden flapping of wings.  There was simply the smell of pizza.  “Excellent work, all of you,” Death intoned, from a chair by the table that hadn’t been there before.

Everyone jumped.  “Who the hell are you?” Dean shot out.

“That’s Death, Dean,” Kali told him in a somber tone.  “As in, the Horseman.”

Death inclined his head.  “Pleased to meet you.  Gabriel, Sam, Lindsey – we had an agreement.  You’ve held up your end of the bargain.  I’ve come to deliver mine.”  He pulled his ring off his finger and tossed it onto the pile with the others.

The four rings drew together, as if drawn by magnets.  The shape seemed compelling somehow, in ways that Gabriel couldn’t describe.  “The key to the Cage,” Gabriel whispered.

“Indeed.  I’ve also brought pizza.  This particular establishment, in Chicago, makes the best pizza in the world.  I’m in a position to know.  Please.  Dig in and enjoy.  Tomorrow you face Lucifer.”  

“Tomorrow?” Dean sighed.  “Alright, okay, I guess.”  He took a slice from the topmost box.  “No point in wasting time, I guess.”

The other residents all grabbed slices, even those who did not eat as a matter of habit.  All of them, that was, except for Sam.  Sam hung back and watched as the others walked up and helped themselves, but he seemed more interested in watching them than in enjoying the food himself.  This wasn’t exactly surprising, since Sam and food had a questionable relationship at best, but Death felt compelled to remark upon it here.  “Not hungry, Sam?” he asked in his typically aloof tone.  “I’d recommend eating; it’s your last chance to do so, after all.”

Gabriel stopped still mid-bite.  No one else moved, either.  No one except for Sam, that was.  Sam just shoved his hands in his pockets and hung his head a little.  “You hadn’t told them,” Death observed, sitting back a little in his chair.

“To be honest I was hoping that we’d come up with some other way,” the tall Winchester admitted with a sheepish little grimace.  “This isn’t something I can say I’m looking forward to, you know?”

“I know, Sam.”  And for a moment, Death sounded gentle, soft.  He sounded wistful, and Death didn’t ever sound that way.  There wasn’t room in Death’s world for wishing that things could be different.  “But there is no other way.  Even if they had managed to come up with the heavenly weapons in time, Lucifer would not have fallen for the ruse.  He is not Yosemite Sam, Gabriel.”

Dean’s eyes blazed.  “Care to clue in the rest of the class, there, Sammy?  Or are you going to just sit there and just let us stew?”

Sam let out a low, slow breath.  “So we have the key to the Cage.  We can open the door, and we can shut it behind him.  But we can’t force him into the Cage.”   He swallowed.  “But we can open the door.  And I can jump.”

Gabriel had lost his voice, thought that it had been torn out of him entirely.  “No.  Oh, hell no.  I’ve barely gotten to have you for a couple of months and now you think I’m going to just give you up?  No.  We are not doing this.  We will find some other way.”

“There is no other way, Gabriel.”  Sam wouldn’t look him in the eye.  “You know it.  We can’t just face him down on the field, we’ll be slaughtered like sheep.  The ruse with the weapons won’t work; it’ll turn into a field battle and we’re back to square one.  I don’t… I don’t want to do this.  I don’t want to lose you and I sure don’t want to go where I’m going, especially not with him.  But I’m the one who let him out –“

“You were manipulated!” Lindsey shouted.  “You were trying to not let him out!  You were trying to keep him locked in there!  It’s not your fault!  You can’t just… you can’t just condemn yourself to an eternity of torture and misery just because both Heaven and Hell tricked you into something!”   Tears streamed openly down her face.

Sam blinked, he blinked a bunch of times and Gabriel realized that he was blinking back tears.  “Look.  It’s not even about that.  I mean, it is.  But it doesn’t matter that I got tricked, it matters that I still did it.  I need to take responsibility for my own actions.  How many millions of people have died because I did something stupid?”  He sighed.  “Besides.  I’m literally the only one who can do this.”

“It’s true,” Death added, raising a hand as Gabriel opened his mouth to object.  “Dean carries the necessary gene, but Lucifer’s Grace has been altered by his time in the Cage.  No fully human vessel could withstand him now, not long enough to carry out our plan.  Even Sam will have difficulty with the task.”

Bobby shook his head.  “I still don’t like it.  I mean, it’s not like getting possessed by a demon, Sam.  It’s Lucifer.  He’s going to find every weakness you’ve ever had and he’s going to exploit it.  It’s not like he’s not going to know what you’ve got in mind.”

Gabriel bit his lip to keep from smiting.  Bobby’s concern was entirely for Sam’s ability to succeed, not for the fact that his so-called surrogate was about to jump into the worst part of Hell to face eternal torment.  Were he and Lindsey the only ones concerned about the fact that Sam was about to die here?

“I know.”  Sam looked at the ground and nodded.  “Like I told you, I don’t like it either.  But it’s the only option we have.”

“Just like that, then?” Dean said, with a twist to his lips that could have garnished a cocktail.  “Just like that you’re telling me that I have to lose my brother?  I’ve sacrificed everything else – I’ve given up my mother, my father, my girlfriend, hell, I’ve given up my son for this, but you’re telling me that I have to not just lose my brother, but send him to the worst part of Hell all for some fight between two bunches of supernatural sons of bitches that have never cared a good god damn about humanity?  About the world?  About us?”

Sam put a giant hand onto Dean’s back.  “I’m saying that it’s the only way to stop that fight,” he offered quietly.  “It’s the only way to make sure that they can’t do this to other families.  You know?”

“I’ll get you back, Sammy,” Dean vowed, one tear running down the side of his face.

“No.  You won’t.  You have better uses for your energy.  You need to focus on Michael and Raphael or the whole thing will be in vain.  Then… then you and Anna, you go somewhere and you take good care of each other.  Get an apartment.  Take care of each other.  Take care of Adam – he’s got no one, anymore.  But whatever you do, you leave that Cage shut.  You can’t risk it.”

Dean cried, and Sam held him for a while before passing him off to Anael.  He had other goodbyes to make as he retreated to the bedroom he shared with Lindsey and Gabriel.  “What I told Dean goes for the two of you,” he told them seriously.  “You guys… just, I want you to go and take care of each other, okay?  You’ll have that.  Go out and see the world together.  Pull some good pranks on some assholes.  Have some fun.  Enjoy the world.  Enjoy each other.  If I know you’re doing that while I’m… where I’m going… then I’ll know it was worth it.”

“Sam,” Gabriel sobbed.

“Hey, none of that.”  Sam gave him a smile and kissed his lips.  “This is a good thing, Gabriel.”

How this could possibly be a good thing when he was never going to see Sam again eluded him.  But he swallowed it down and took Sam into his arms, because Sam needed to have that memory.

*

Dean made himself go to watch his brother take on Lucifer.  Even though he knew that Sam saying yes was part of a plan, a ruse, he couldn’t help the disappointment that coursed through him when that word emerged from between his brother’s pink lips.  And oh God, he couldn’t look, but to see what was left of the other vessel when the light show stopped was more than he could stand.  The guy was a frostbitten crater, a hollow shell that shattered on impact as it hit the floor.  Had there even been enough of this poor sucker to send the soul on to Hell?  Or Heaven, whichever?  The guy had said yes to the Devil, that probably didn’t get you a seat on the best clouds upstairs.

Was this going to happen to Sammy?

And that was Sammy but it wasn’t Sammy.  He stood tall, using his full height and throwing his shoulders back like he owned the damn place.  Like he owned everything.  Lucifer stretched out a hand in front of him and clenched it into a fist.  “Really?” he said in a calm, flat tone.  “You thought you were going to be able to force me back into the cage with nothing but an addict’s willpower?  Even for you, Dean, this is a whole new mountain of stupid.  And you, Gabriel.”  He turned those cold, dead eyes onto the Trickster.  “I’m surprised at you.  I was sure that I’d cured you of this whole… stand your ground thing back at the Elysian Fields.”

“Had to be here with him, Lucifer.”  Christ, how had Gabriel’s eyes gotten so hollow?  It had only been a day, not even a day.  Twelve hours more like.  “I’d say something about how you should understand, but you don’t.  You never could, not really.”

“You think I can’t understand love?” The words sounded calm, but Dean could feel the rage underneath them.  “I loved our Father more than –“

“Save it, ice boy,” Gabriel snapped.  “Why do you think your Grace warped?  You can’t love.  You physically cannot love.  Not anymore.  It’s why everything you touch turns to ice.”  He shook his head.  “I’d hoped we could help you, save you somehow.  Bring you home someday.  But you’re too far gone, brother.”

“And that little spat we had last week had nothing to do with your assessment.”  Lucifer’s smirk was so unlike Sam’s, despite coming from the same lips, that Dean had to turn away.  “Let’s see.  I think I’ll start with… Dean.”  Before Dean could react his entire face exploded in pain.  “This is for even thinking that you were going to be able to do something here, Dean.”  The archangel’s voice was calm and his fist came down with precision, but there was true hate behind those blows.

Cas tried to intervene, but a snap of Lucifer’s fingers – with his free hand no less- and the angel’s head exploded.  Dean wanted to scream, but he had to focus.  “I’m here, Sammy,” he groaned.  “I’m not gonna leave you.”

“Isn’t that sweet,” Lucifer mocked.  “Oh, Sammy’s in here alright.  Why do you think I started with you?  He’s feeling everything.  My knuckles on your skin.  The snap of your bones.”  Crack – one of Dean’s eyes went dark.  “Every.”  Crack – that was Dean’s nose.  “Last.”  Crack.  “One.”

“Lucifer, stop,” Gabriel insisted, catching the massive fist just before it landed for a killing blow.  Dean could see, but he couldn’t react.  He’d taken too many hits; his head was still spinning.  “That’s enough.  There’s no reason for you to kill Dean.”

“Sure there is, little brother.”  His sword appeared in his hand.  “It’ll stop this pathetic struggling in my head.  Just like killing you will.”  He pulled back the sword and Dean held his breath, preparing for the impact such a murder would surely have.  And it would be murder – Gabriel didn’t even draw his own sword.

He didn’t need to.  That was when Sam’s eyes widened.  The hand gripping the sword dropped it.  “Gabriel?”  He choked.  “Dean?”  He let out a shuddering breath.  “It’s okay, Dean.  I’ve got him.”

“Sammy,” Dean groaned.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dean.”  He glanced at his lover.  “The rings, Gabe.  Hurry.  He’s fighting me.”

Gabriel’s returning glance was agony, and he pulled Sam down for a deep, passionate kiss before throwing the rings down onto the ground and speaking a few words in an ancient and almost unspeakable tongue.  A massive hole appeared in the ground behind Sam, sucking in twigs and pebbles like some kind of vacuum cleaner and whipping Sam’s hair around like a cyclone.  Sam looked once at Gabriel’s face, and once at Dean’s.  When he saw Dean’s his face crumbled, and he looked at his own hand.  Then a look of utter calm came over him, he closed his eyes and he jumped.

The ground closed over him.  Indeed, the grass showed no signs of disturbance, as though nothing had ever happened.    Gabriel lurched over to Dean and touched his face once and suddenly all of the physical pain disappeared; the hunter barely noticed.  Together they staggered over to the place where Sam had jumped into Hell.  Dean sank to his knees.  “So this is it?”

“No.”  The Trickster’s voice was hollow, empty.  “We’ve still got to do something about Mikey and Raf.”  He squatted down and picked up the keys again.  “But that’s half the job.”

“What now?”  Dean knew what they needed to do, of course.  Not the specifics, but he knew.  He just needed someone else to direct for a little while.  Yeah, Gabriel had lost his lover.  Dean had lost the brother who had been his whole world, and yeah things had been terrible for a while but they’d never gotten a chance to patch things up.  Not really.  Sam had gone to his death thinking that Dean didn’t want him, didn’t love him, didn’t trust him.

And it was never going to get better.

“We fight.”  Gabriel brought him back to Bobby’s and disappeared up into his and Lindsey’s bedroom.

Cas appeared a few days later, whole and with his Grace fully restored.  He said that he didn’t know why he’d been resurrected, but he could only credit the Father for whom he’d searched.  They hadn’t spoken, but there was no other force that could bring an angel back.  Anna was pleased by this turn of events and Dean tried to be happy for her, and for Cas, but he couldn’t help but be resentful too.

After all, where was his reward?  Hell, where was Sammy’s?  Sammy was in a hole, and he wasn’t coming back.  Sammy was in a hole, facing torture worse than anything that Dean had seen or done.

“He got what he wanted,” Anna told him when he confessed his feelings.  “He got the world.”

“The world never wanted him,” Dean raged.  “Why should he have to suffer for it like this?”

She held him close.  “I don’t know.”

Balthazar finally came through with the heavenly weapons a few weeks later.  They used Adam as bait to capture Michael into a crystal that put him into a state of stasis – essentially imprisoning him, much as Lucifer had been, but without his being awake or conscious.  When Raphael came calling they did the same to him.  Sam would have lost his mind at Dean for even suggesting using Adam as bait, but he wasn’t here anymore and no one had the same attachmtent to those ideals when he was suffering as he was.   It all seemed kind of anti-climactic, but maybe it was just Dean.  Maybe his grief and his despair just made him numb to everything that was getting thrown at him right about now.

After the Apocalypse was averted, Gabriel and Lindsey left Sioux Falls.  They didn’t say where they were going but all three gods in the house insisted that they pay visits as soon as they felt up to it; “We miss him too,” they said simply.  So maybe they were heading back to wherever it was they’d been hiding.  Or maybe they were going someplace that didn’t remind them of Sam at all.  South Beach maybe.

The gods took off next, although Baron Samedi promised to visit Bobby soon.  The fact that Bobby seemed enthusiastic about that just showed how much the world had turned on its head.

Dean and Anna left next.  They didn’t know where they were going, but they were going there together.  After some discussion, they brought Adam with them.  The possibility of a normal life seemed distant for him now, after having been eaten alive and then resurrected.  Maybe someday he would try it again, but for now he wanted to stay with someone who was at least vaguely familiar.  It gave Dean someone who needed him, which took him out of his own head and helped him to move through his grief.

Cas went back to Heaven.  With only one remaining archangel, and that one absentee, they needed an experienced commander upstairs to help pick up the pieces.  He dropped in to visit when he could.

The world, saved, continued on without Sam.  Very few people noticed the difference.  But for those people, the world would never be the same.

 

 


	16. Epilogue: I Never Spent A Year Better Spent In Love

After Sam jumped, Gabriel and Lindsey hadn’t been able to go back to Norway.  They’d tried, but everything about the cabin reminded them both of everything that they’d lost.  So, as Dean had suspected that they might, they decided to go someplace that had no reminders of Sam at all, that wouldn’t offer anything to trigger even the tiniest memory.  Costalegre, in Jalisco, seemed like it would fit the bill just nicely.  Both of them kind of liked the idea of spending some time just sitting on a beach and licking their wounds, too, although neither of them would admit it.  Gabriel created a safe house for them in a little beach-hut type of building.

            Sam had told them to take care of each other, and they did.  It wasn’t always easy.  Even though he’d been a late arrival to their sexual adventures he’d been what brought them together, the bridge from human to supernatural.  Of course after this long Lindsey’s activities with an archangel had begun to change her too, even if she wasn’t entirely aware of it, but it had still been Sam that made them a couple even before they were a trio.   Learning to live with and love each other around that void was challenging at first.  Sam had asked them to, though, so they managed.

            They stayed in touch with the others.  Sam had been right about Samedi, who stopped in every so often for dinner.  It was Baron Samedi who pointed out that, given that Mercury was no longer among the living, the world was short one messenger god.  And he just happened to have these stylish winged sandals.

            They had to discuss the matter with Lindsey, and seriously.  It would require powerful magic, and a certain amount of sacrifice on her part.  She would no longer be human.  She would have responsibilities of her own, as a goddess.  At the same time, she would be safer, and Gabriel desperately wanted to keep her alive as long as he could.  He didn’t want to lose her the way he’d lost Sam.

            He and Samedi outlined the process.  They explained the risks.  They explained the rewards.  Lindsey considered them carefully, and then she looked to Gabriel.  “Is this truly what you want?”

            He put his hands on her shoulders.  “I want you,” he told her.  “I want you to be with me, for as long as you’ll have me.  But I want you, and I want you to… not go.”

            She knew what he meant.  “Then I’ll do it.”

            The procedure took several days, and was not without its painful side, but she came through it intact and took her place at his side.  They settled in together and he began to teach her about being a goddess.

            About three months after they removed to Mexico the pair were seated in their beach hut.  They didn’t sleep, they didn’t need to, but they did enjoy the occasional lazy evening  in each other’s arms.  It helped to remind them that they were still there, that they hadn’t lost everything.  That was when something unfamiliar knocked at the door.

            Gabriel let his senses brush against the visitor’s mind.  He couldn’t read the mind, arguing against human or against normal human at least, but he could sense something else about the guest: Grace.  Each angel’s Grace had its own signature; this one’s felt like the flavor of a fresh, crisp Empire apple on a chilly October morning.  And it was powerful, he noticed.  An archangel, and an archangel he didn’t know.

            This couldn’t go anywhere good.

            He drew his sword.  “Stay behind me,” he ordered Lindsey, walking toward the door.  He wasn’t going to lose her, not the way he’d lost Sam.  “Who’s there?”

            The door flew open.  Death stood there, a disapproving look on his face.  “Don’t be rude, Gabriel,” he directed.

            “You brought an angel.”  Gabriel couldn’t stop Death from coming into the house, couldn’t stop him from doing anything really, but he didn’t have to like it.

            “I did.  Unfortunately I can’t bring him in thanks to the warding on this place.  I don’t suppose you’d care to fix that little problem?”  He set a cake down on the table.

            “You want me to just let an unfamiliar archangel waltz on into my safehouse.”  Gabriel snorted.

            “Have it your way.”  Death seated himself.  As he did, Gabriel felt a change in the energy  in the room as the wards were broken.  A tall, long-haired figure walked into the space.

            “Sam?” Lindsey gasped.

            It looked like Sam, more or less.  His hair was longer, and the lines of his body had changed a little.  Like he was carrying wings he wasn’t used to yet, Gabriel realized.  Of course, that didn’t mean that it was Sam.  “That’s not possible,” Gabriel declared, staring at the Not-Sam.

            “Come now, Gabriel, surely you know that I can go anywhere.”  Death gestured to the cake.

            “Yeah.  Sure.  You can go anywhere.  But you… why?  You sent him in there!”

            “Gabriel,” Not-Sam murmured.  “I chose to go.”  He offered a little smile.  “Psychic, remember?  I knew it, uh, wouldn’t end well.”

            “And Death just pulled you out from the goodness of his heart?”  Lindsey raised an eyebrow.

            “It was a little more complicated than that,” Not-Sam replied.  He looked away for a moment.  “Lucifer – um.  The Cage doesn’t exist anymore.”

            “It was kinder this way,” Death explained as Gabriel staggered.  “Your Father… well, He saw what had become of His son.  Free will is all well and good, I suppose, but they have to learn that there are consequences to their behavior.  Isolating Lucifer for so long destroyed him.  He could not be helped, not anymore.”

            He was crying.  Gabriel was crying, even though Lucifer had tried to kill him and had done infinitely worse no doubt to Sam.  “So… Sam?”

            “Wouldn’t have survived the return,” Not-Sam replied.  “I wasn’t with him long, in Earth years.  It was enough.  He was angry.”

            “I had a discussion with your Father.  I agreed to help His beloved son, and he agreed to help mine.”  He inclined his head toward Not-Sam.  “He’s still new at this.  But I’m sure you’ll prove a very apt teacher.”

            “Wait – why?” Lindsey asked.  “Why would you do all of this for him – for us?  And I thought God didn’t care – that we were on our own.  Now He… He goes and turns Sam into an archangel?  What gives?”

            Death sighed.  “God saw what happened.  He hoped to see His children remember their mission and help humanity.  There were three angels who did so.  The rest?”  He shrugged.  “Useless.  But so many of the lower orders of angels have been so deeply brainwashed I can hardly blame them.  Your Father, Gabriel, still sees humanity as being in need of defending.  From evil.  From other angels, at times.  From itself.  He hardly expects you to be the only one out there raising a sword.  So.”  He gestured to Sam.  “This one, however, is not His.  This one is mine.”

            Gabriel met Not-Sam’s eyes.  “Tell me something only Sam would know.”

            “Um, you tried to chase me down with Swamp Thing holding a chain saw way back when we first met?  And my brother shoved all of your candy into his mouth at once?”  Those eyes, those magical eyes, didn’t leave his.

            “Sam!” Lindsey exclaimed, and threw herself into his arms.

            Gabriel embraced them both.  They were whole again.  

 

 


End file.
